presented lilies, and above were the words, "Jhesus, Maria." On the other side of the banner was a shield with the arms of France, supported by two angels. She had also a smaller banner with a white dove on azure ground, holding in his beak a scroll with the words, "In the name of the King of Heaven."

With her great white banner floating high in the carrying wind, her sword scabbard of cloth-of-gold, glittering in the sunlight, and the armour of her men-at-arms gleaming in its new splendour, the Maid set out for Orléans, preceded by a company of priests singing the Veni Creator as they marched.

Jeanne's plan of entry into Orléans was a very simple one. She desired to march right in under the great forts defending the besieged city, to flout the enemy, and cheer the desperate citizens by her daring. But the captains of her army, although they had sworn to obey her every command, were seasoned veterans in the art of war, and had no intention of carrying out any plan of campaign laid out by a girl of seventeen, so they wilfully disregarded her plan, and by so doing delayed their entry into the city for weary hours, and in the end were obliged to enter in the very way planned by their young Commander. When at last, at night, attended by troops of torch bearers, Jeanne went into Orléans sitting proudly erect on her great white horse, and the people of the city saw first the Maid who had come to their relief, they could but wonder at sight of her girlish figure, in its shining armour, and the radiant young face carried inspiration and comfort to their wearied hearts. So eager were they to touch her or her horse that in crowding near, a torch touched her banner, and set it on fire, but wheeling around lightly, she crushed out the flame, as though she had long been an expert in such deeds. Then she and her company went to the Cathedral of St. Croix to return thanks for having entered the city, and afterwards were lodged for the night at the house of the Duc's treasurer, where Jeanne shared the room of her host's nine-year-old daughter and slept as sweetly and soundly as the child herself.

Then followed fifteen days of hard fighting, for the enemy manfully resisted the onslaught of Jeanne's army, but at last, the English, vanquished, were obliged to retreat, telling marvellous tales of the Maid who was less than an angel, more than a soldier, and only a girl who had done this thing.

The attack on the city had begun at six in the morning and lasted for thirteen hours, and was indeed a marvellous assault on both sides. A hundred times the English mounted the walls, and a hundred times were thrown back into the moat, and the Maid with her floating banner, was everywhere at once, encouraging her men with the ringing cry, "Fear not. The place is yours!" Then she received a wound in her shoulder above the breast, and at the first flash of severe pain, like any other girl, she shivered with fear, and hot tears came, while they carried her off the field and dressed the wound. After that she was obliged to entrust her standard to a faithful man, but she still inspired and comforted her army from the position to which she had been carried, and as the sounds of battle deepened, above the tumult rang out her clear voice of ringing command,—then came victory and the retreat of the enemy. Orléans was delivered from the hands of the English. France still held "the key to the Loire," and the Maid of France had gained one of the fifteen battles of the world.

The bells of Orléans rang out victoriously, while all the citizens in all the churches chanted Te Deums and sang praises of the wonderful Maid who had saved France.

In all the records of history no other girl ever reached such a height of glory as did Jeanne that day, and yet instead of revelling in the praise showered on her, and in her popularity, when the battle was over, she went to bed and to sleep like a tired child, and when the people saw how exhausted she was, they stood guard over the house where she slept, and would allow no traffic to disturb her rest. And from that day to this, the eighth of May has ever been "Jeanne d'Arc's Day" in Orléans.

Jeanne had now fulfilled her second task. She had raised the siege of Orléans. Now for the third. Forward to the Dauphin's crowning at Rheims,—forward to the anointing of the rightful Sovereign of France!—that was her one thought and cry. But the Dauphin himself was in no such hurry to save his kingdom, now that the distress of the moment had been allayed. However, he met the Maid at Tours soon afterwards, and not only sang her praises for what she had done, but also acting on an impulse, his eyes lit with sudden fire, suddenly rose, and raising his sword aloft, brought it down slowly on Jeanne's shoulder, saying, that in so doing he joined her, her family, her kin and her descendants to the nobility of France, adding "Rise, Jeanne d'Arc, now and henceforth surnamed du lis, in grateful acknowledgment of the good blow you have struck for the lilies of France, and they and the royal crown and your own victorious sword shall be grouped in your escutcheon, and be and remain the symbol of your high nobility for ever."

Great indeed was this honour, with all that it meant to the family of Jeanne, and she received it with fitting appreciation, but it was not what she craved; yet still the King loitered and lingered in his château, giving heed to the arguments of his counsellors,—who for reasons of their own, desired to thwart the plans of the Maid—rather than to her whose Voices told her that the Dauphin should set out at once for Rheims, while the French army was still hot with the enthusiasm of victory. At last seeing it was useless to wait any longer, Jeanne and her men were obliged to press on without any definite news of when or where they would be joined by the Dauphin, and three days later, after raising the siege of Orléans, her army took Jargeau, a town twelve miles from Orléans, and then marched back to Orléans to be received as conquering heroes.

D'Alençon was given six casks of wine, the Maid four, and the town council ordered a robe and hûque for Jeanne of green and crimson, the Orléans colours. Her hûque was of green satin, and embroidered with the Orléans emblem,—the nettle,—and doubtless this offering was acceptable to the girl who with all her qualities of generalship never lost her feminine liking for pretty clothes.

By the taking of Jargeau the southern sweep of the Loire for fifty miles was wiped clear of English fortresses, but the enemy still held Beaugency and Meung, a few miles downstream, and to their capture Jeanne and her forces now set out. Then with a still greater prize in view, they marched on towards Pâtay, a town between Meung and Rouvray, where they found the forces of the English massed, in consequence of which Jeanne called together her men for a council of war.

"What is to be done now?" asked d'Alençon, with deep concern.

"Have all of you good spurs?" she cried.

"How is that? Shall we run away?"

"Nay, in the name of God—after them! It is the English who will not defend themselves and shall be beaten. You must have good spurs to follow them. Our victory is certain," she exclaimed and added with that quick vision which was always the inspiration of her forces, "The gentle King shall have to-day the greatest victory he has ever had!"

And true indeed was her prediction, for the battle of Pâtay was a great victory, and set the seal of assurance on the work commenced at Orléans. The English rout was complete. Their leaders fled and four thousand men were either killed or captured, and as in every battle, Jeanne's flaming courage and enthusiasm spurred her men on to