The little Charlotte, her mother beside her,
was hanging out of the window, the light staff of the Maid's white
banneret clasped in her chubby hands; and she was leaning out of
the window, holding it towards the white mailed figure, of whom (in
armour) she always spoke, in hushed tone, as mon ange. The Maid
looked upwards, kissed her gauntletted hand to the little one,
seized the staff of her banner, and then, calling upon her
followers in clear tones of command, dashed out through the gateway
into the street beyond, and without an instant's hesitation turned
towards that gate of the city nearest to the English bastille named
St. Loup. And though we all spurred after her, so that the sparks
flew from under our horses' feet, and the Chevalier d'Aulon brought
up the rear bearing the great white standard, which was to lead the
armies into battle, we none of us knew wherefore we had come forth
nor whither we were going; and the city being yet still and quiet,
the citizens rushed to doors and windows to watch us pass by, and
shouted questions to us which we were not able to answer.
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