She mounted upon one of the bastions of Orleans, opposite the English bastille called Tournelles, and there, at the top of her voice, she repeated her counsel to them to be gone; else, woe and shame would come upon them.  The commandant of the bastille, Sir William Gladesdale [called by Joan and the French chroniclers Glacidas], answered with the usual insults, telling her to go back and mind her cows, and alluding to the French as miscreants.  “You lie,” cried Joan, “and in spite of you soon shall ye depart hence; many of your people shall be slain; but as for you, you shall not see it.”

Dunois, the very day of his return to Orleans, after dinner, went to call upon Joan, and told her that he had heard on his way that Sir John Falstolf, the same who on the 12th of the previous February had beaten the French in the Herring affair, was about to arrive with re-enforcements and supplies for the besiegers.  “Bastard, bastard,” said Joan, “in the name of God I command thee, as soon as thou shalt know of this Pascot’s coming, to have me warned of it, for, should he pass without my knowing of it, I promise thee that I will have thy head cut off.”  Dunois assured her that she should be warned.  Joan was tired with the day’s excitement; she threw herself upon her bed to sleep, but unsuccessfully; all at once she said to Sire Daulon, her esquire, “My counsel doth tell me to go against the English; but I know not whether against their bastilles or against this Fascot.  I must arm.”  Her esquire was beginning to arm her when she heard it shouted in the street that the enemy were at that moment doing great damage to the French.  “My God,” said she, “the blood of our people is running on the ground; why was I not awakened sooner?  Ah! it was ill done! . . .  My arms!  My arms! my horse!” Leaving behind her esquire, who was not yet armed, she went down.  Her page was playing at the door:  “Ah! naughty boy,” said she, “not to come and tell me that the blood of France was being shed!  Come! quick! my horse!” It was brought to her; she bade them hand down to her by the window her banner, which she had left behind, and, without any further waiting, she departed and went to the Burgundy gate, whence the noise seemed to come.  Seeing on her way one of the townsmen passing who was being carried off wounded, she said, “Alas!  I never see a Frenchman’s blood but my hair stands up on my head!” It was some of the Orleannese themselves who, without consulting their chiefs, had made a sortie and attacked the Bastille St. Loup, the strongest held by the English on this side.  The French had been repulsed, and were falling back in flight when Joan came up, and soon after her Dunois and a throng of men-at-arms who had been warned of the danger.  The fugitives returned to the assault; the battle was renewed with ardor; the bastille of St. Loup, notwithstanding energetic resistance on the part of the English who manned it, was taken; and all its