There
the chiefest citizens came hurrying to meet us, leading a white
charger for their Deliverer to ride upon.
And when she was mounted, the people thronged about her weeping and
shouting, blessing and hailing her as their champion and saviour.
The streets were thronged with pale-faced men; women and children
hung from the windows, showering flowers at our feet. Torches lit
up the darkening scene, and shone from the breastplates and
headpieces of the mailed men. But the Maid in her white armour
seemed like a being from another sphere; and the cry of "St.
Michael! St. Michael himself!" resounded on all sides, and one did
not wonder.
Nothing would serve the Maid but to go straight to the Cathedral
first, and offer thanksgiving for her arrival here, and the people
flocked with her, till the great building was filled to overflowing
with her retinue of soldiers and her self-constituted followers.
Some begged of her to address them from the steps at the conclusion
of the brief service, but she shook her head.
"I have no words for them--only I love them all," she answered,
with a little natural quiver of emotion in her voice.
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