La Hire had returned to the city to seek to infuse into the citizens some of the spirit of the Maid.  He was always for bold attack, and would be ready on the morrow, we did not doubt, for whatever might betide.

It was little after dawn when we rode forth, the Maid in her white armour at our head, carrying her small pennon, whilst D’Aulon bore the great white standard close behind.  Her face was pale and rapt.  None of us spoke to her, and Pasquerel, her good chaplain, rode behind telling his beads as he went.

We reached the Burgundy Gate; and behold it was fast shut.  At the portal stood De Gaucourt, a notable warrior, with a grim look about his mouth.  The Maid saluted him courteously, and quietly bid him open the gate.  But he budged not an inch.

“Madam,” he said, “I have my commands from the Generals of the army.  The gate is to remain shut.  No one is to be suffered to pass forth today.”

We understood in a moment.  This was a ruse to trap the Maid within the city walls.  Our hands were upon the hilts of our swords.  At a word from her, they would have flashed forth, and De Gaucourt would have been a dead man had he sought to hinder us in the opening of the gate.  But the Maid read our purpose in our eyes and in our gestures, and she stayed us by her lifted hand.

“Not so, my friends,” she answered gravely, “but the Chevalier de Gaucourt will himself order the opening of the gate.  I have to ride through it and at once.  My Lord bids it!”

Her eyes flashed full and suddenly upon him.  We saw him quiver from head to foot.  With his own hands he unlocked the gate, and it seemed to swing of its own accord wide open before us.  The Maid bent her head in gracious acknowledgment, swept through and was off to the river like a flash of white lightning.

The river lay golden in the glory of the morning.  The boats which had transported us across last night bore us bravely over now.  I know not how the Generals felt when they saw the Maid, a dazzling vision of brightness, her great white standard close behind, her phalanx of knights and gentlemen in attendance, gallop up to the scene of action, from which they thought they had successfully banished her.  I only know that from the throats of the soldiers there arose a deafening shout of welcome.  They at least believed in her.  They looked to her as to none else.  They would follow her unwaveringly, when no other commander could make them budge.

A yell that rent the very firmament went up at sight of her, and every man seized his arms and sprang to his post, as though inspired by the very genius of victory.

“Courage, my children, forward!  The day shall be ours!” she cried, as she took her place at the head of the formidable charge against the walls which frowned and bristled with the pikes and arrows of the English.  Her voice, like a silver clarion, rang clear through the din of the furious battle which followed: