No foe could stand before her.  Not that she struck blows with her own hand.  There seemed no need for that, and when at the close of the day I relieved her of her arms, there was no spot of blood upon her shining blade, though her coat of silver mail had received stains from the fray.  She was like the Angel of Victory, flashing through the ranks of the combatants.  Wherever she appeared, the flying French turned back to face the foe, and the pursuing English wavered, paused, and finally broke rank and fled backwards to the shelter of their walls and forts.  Our men fought gallantly—­let me not deny them their due—­soldiers and citizens alike, who had come forth with and after the Maid, all were inspired by confidence and courage.  But it was her presence in the ranks which gave assurance of victory.  Wherever French soldiers wavered it was when she was far away and her back towards them.  Yet so soon as she turned in their direction—­and some power seemed to whisper to her whenever her soldiers were dismayed—­and galloped to their assistance, all was well again; and ere an hour had passed the English were driven back within their towers, and the victory was ours.

Dunois and La Hire rode up to the Maid and saluted.  From the city in our rear we could already hear the pealing of the joy bells, the triumphant acclamation of the populace.

“Let us lead you back thither to receive the plaudits you have so well deserved,” spoke Dunois, who was man enough to give all the credit of the victory to the Maid.  “Right valiantly have you accomplished your task.  Now let us take you to receive the gratitude of the town.”

“Accomplished!” repeated the Maid with a glance of surprise.  “Why, my friends, the task is scarcely yet begun!”

They gazed at her in amazement; but she calmly pointed towards the frowning walls and battlements of St. Loup.

“We must take yonder tower,” she said quietly, “that is what our brave, but rash young officers set themselves to do.  They shall not be disappointed.  It shall be ours ere night fall upon us.  Call to me the bold De Gamache; I would have speech with him and his comrades.”

The greater Generals looked at her and at one another, speaking no word.  The walls and battlements of St. Loup were strong and well defended.  The tower could spout fire and smoke like a living monster.  Already the troops had marched far and fought hotly.  Surely if assault were to be made it should wait for another day.  Thus they communed together a stone’s throw from the Maid; but she only looked upon them with her deep inward smile, and softly I heard her speak the words: 

“No, it must be done today.”

De Gamache rode up, and some half dozen other officers with him.  His face was stained with blood and blackened by smoke.  He had a scarf bound about his left arm; but his bearing was bold and resolute, and though his cheek flushed at the clear, direct gaze of the Maid’s eyes, he neither faltered nor trembled as he stood before her.