Though still brave and dauntless, though still preserving her innocence and her piety, she now made mistakes.  She was also thwarted in her plans.  She became, perhaps, self-assured and self-confident, and assumed prerogatives that only belonged to the King and his ministers, which had the effect of alienating them.  They never secretly admired her, nor fully trusted her.  Charles made a truce with the great Duke of Burgundy, who was in alliance with the English.  Joan vehemently denounced the truce, and urged immediate and uncompromising action; but timidity, or policy, or political intrigues, defeated her counsels.  The King wished to regain Paris by negotiation; all his movements were dilatory.  At last his forces approached the capital, and occupied St. Denis.  It was determined to attack the city.  One corps was led by Joan; but in the attack she was wounded, and her troops, in spite of her, were forced to retreat.  Notwithstanding the retreat and her wound, however, she persevered, though now all to no purpose.  The King himself retired, and the attack became a failure.  Still Joan desired to march upon Paris for a renewed attack; but the King would not hear of it, and she was sent with troops badly equipped to besiege La Charite, where she again failed.  For four weary months she remained inactive.  She grew desperate; the voices neither encouraged nor discouraged her.  She was now full of sad forebodings, yet her activity continued.  She repaired to Compiegne, a city already besieged by the enemy, which she wished to relieve.  In a sortie she was outnumbered, and was defeated and taken prisoner by John of Luxemburg, a vassal of the Duke of Burgundy.

The news of this capture produced great exhilaration among the English and Burgundians.  Had a great victory been won, the effect could not have been greater.  It broke the spell.  The Maid was human, like other women; and her late successes were attributed not to her inspiration, but to demoniacal enchantments.  She was looked upon as a witch or as a sorceress, and was now guarded with especial care for fear of a rescue, and sent to a strong castle belonging to John of Luxemburg.  In Paris, on receipt of the news, the Duke of Bedford caused Te Deums to be sung in all the churches, and the University and the Vicar of the Inquisition demanded of the Duke of Burgundy that she should be delivered to ecclesiastical justice.

The remarkable thing connected with the capture of the Maid was that so little effort was made to rescue her.  She had rendered to Charles an inestimable service, and yet he seems to have deserted her; neither he nor his courtiers appeared to regret her captivity,—­probably because they were jealous of her.  Gratitude was not one of the virtues of feudal kings.  What sympathy could feudal barons have with a low-born peasant girl?  They had used her; but when she could be useful no longer, they forgot her.  Out of sight she was out of mind; and if remembered at all, she