She passed through Orleans on the 10th of June，and had there been joined by various new detachments.The number of her army was now raised，we are told，to twelve hundred lances，which means，as each "lance"was a separate party，about three thousand six hundred men，though the /Journal du Siège/gives a much larger number；at all events it was a small army with which to decide a quarrel between the two greatest nations of Christendom.Her associates in command were here once more seized by the prevailing sin of hesitation，and many arguments were used to induce her to postpone the assault.It would seem that this hesitation continued until the very moment of attack，and was only put an end to when Jeanne herself impatiently seized her banner from the hand of her squire，and planting herself at the foot of the walls let loose the fervour of the troops and cheered them on to the irresistible rush in which lay their strength.For it was with the commanders，not with the followers，that the weakness lay.The Maid herself was struck on the head by a stone from the battlements which threw her down；but she sprang up again in a moment unhurt.
"/Sus！Sus！/Our Lord has condemned the English--all is yours！"she cried.She would seem to have stood there in her place with her banner，a rallying-point and centre in the midst of all the confusion of the fight，taking this for her part in it，and though she is always in the thick of the combat，never，so far as we are told，striking a blow，exposed to all the instruments of war，but injured by none.The effect of her mere attitude，the steadiness of her stand，under the terrible rain of stone bullets and dreadful arrows，must of itself have been indescribable.
In the midst of the fiery struggle，there is almost a comic point in her watch over Alen？on，for whose safety she had pledged herself，now dragging him from a dangerous spot with a cry of warning，now pushing him forward with an encouraging word.On the first of these occasions a gentleman of Anjou，M.de Lude，who took his place in the front was killed，which seems hard upon the poor gentleman，who was probably quite as well worth caring for as Alen？on."/Avant，gentil duc/，"she cried at another moment，"forward！Are you afraid？you know I promised your wife to bring you safe home."Thus her voice keeps ringing through the din，her white armour gleams."/Sus！Sus！/"the bold cry is almost audible，sibilant，whistling amid the whistling of the arrows.
Suffolk，the English Bayard，the most chivalrous of knights，was at last forced to yield.One story tells us that he would give up his sword only to Jeanne herself，[1]but there is a more authentic description of his selection of one youth among his assailants whom the quick perceptions of the leader had singled out."Are you noble？"Suffolk asks in the brevity of such a crisis."Yes；Guillame Regnault，gentleman of Auvergne.""Are you a knight？""Not yet."The victor put a knee to the ground before his captive，the vanquished touched him lightly on the shoulder with the sword which he then gave over to him.
Suffolk was always the finest gentleman，the most perfect gentle knight of his time.
"Now let us go and see the English of Meung，"cried Jeanne，unwearying，as soon as this victory was assured.That place fell easily；it is called the bridge of Meung，in the Chronicle，without further description，therefore presumably the fortress was not attacked--and they proceeded onward to Beaugency.These towns still shine over the plain，along the line of the Loire，visible as far as the eye will carry over the long levels，the great stream linking one to another like pearls on a thread.There is nothing in the landscape now to give even a moment's shelter to the progress of a marching army which must have been seen from afar，wherever it moved；or to veil the shining battlements，and piled up citadels rising here and there，concentrated points and centres of life.The great white Castle of Blois，the darker tower of Beaugency，still stand where they stood when Jeanne and her men drew near，as conspicuous in their elevation of walls and towers as if they had been planted on a mountain top.On more than one occasion during this wonderful progress from victory to victory，the triumphant leaders returned for a day or two to Orleans to tell their good tidings，and to celebrate their success.
And there is but one voice as to the military skill which she displayed in these repeated operations.The reader sees her，with her banner，posted in the middle of the fight，guiding her men with a sort of infallible instinct which adds force to her absolute quick perception of every difficulty and advantage，the unhesitating promptitude，attending like so many servants upon the inspiration which is the soul of all.These are things to which a writer ignorant of war is quite unable to do justice.What was almost more wonderful still was the manner in which the Maid held her place among the captains，most of whom would have thwarted her if they could，with a consciousness of her own superior place，in which there is never the slightest token of presumption or self-esteem.She guarded and guided Alen？on with a good-natured and affectionate disdain；and when there was risk of a great quarrel and a splitting of forces she held the balance like an old and experienced guide of men.
