ny, a knight that had no great love either of her or of a desperate
onslaught. But D'Alencon, whom she loved as a brother, was commanded to
take another band, and wait behind a butte or knowe, out of danger of
arrow-shot. The Maid had stormed all day at her gate, had taken the
boulevard without, and burst open and burned the outer port, and crossed
the dry ditch. But when she had led up her men, now few, over the slope
and to the edge of the wet fosse, behold no faggots and bundles of wood
were brought up, whereby, as is manner of war, to fill up the fosse, and
so cross over. As she then stood under the wall, shouting for faggots
and scaling-ladders, her standard-bearer was shot to death, and she was
sorely wounded by an arbalest bolt. Natheless she lay by the wall, still
crying on her men, but nought was ready that should have been, many were
slain by shafts and cannon-shot, and in the dusk, she weeping and crying
still that the place was theirs to take, D'Alencon carried her off by
main force, set her on her horse, and so brought her back to St. Denis.

Now, my mind was, and is to this day, that there was treason here, and a
black stain on the chivalry of France, to let a girl go so far, and not
to follow her. But of us Scots many were slain, and more wounded, while
Robin Lindsay died in Paris gate, and Randal Rutherford lay a prisoner in
English hands.

CHAPTER XXIII--HOW ELLIOT'S JACKANAPES CAME HOME

Of our Blessed Lord Himself it is said in the Gospel of St. Matthew, "et
non fecit ibi virtutes multas propter incredulitatem illorum." These
words I willingly leave in the Roman tongue; for by the wisdom of Holy
Church it is deemed that many mysteries should not be published abroad in
the vulgar speech, lest the unlearned hear to their own confusion. But
if even He, doubtless by the wisdom of His own will, did not many great
works "propter incredulitatem," it is the less to be marvelled at that
His Saints, through the person of the Blessed Maid, were of no avail
where men utterly disbelieved. And that, where infidelity was, even she
must labour in vain was shown anon, even on this very day of my escape
out of Paris town. For I had scarce taken some food, and washed and
armed myself, when the Maid's trumpets sounded, and she herself, armed
and on horseback, despite her wound, rode into St. Denis, to devise with
the gentle Duc d'Alencon. Together they came forth from the gate, and I,
being in their c