Thankful joy was indeed in her heart, but her tender
woman's pity was so stirred by sights of suffering and death that
for the moment she could think of nothing else.
Thus the daylight faded, and we began to think of return. How shall
I describe the sight which greeted our eyes in the gathering dusk,
as we looked towards the city? One might have thought that the
English had fired it, so bright was the glare in which it was
enveloped; but we knew better. Bonfires were blazing in every
square, in every open place. Nay, more, from the very roofs of
tower and church great pillars of flame were ascending to the
heavens.
Joy bells had rung before this, but never with such a wild
jubilation, such a clamour of palpitating triumph. The city had
gone mad in its joy--and it was no marvel--and all were awaiting
the return of the Maid, to whom this miraculous deliverance was
due. Eight days--eight days of the Maid--and the seven-months'
siege was raised! Was it wonderful they should hunger for her
presence amongst them? Was it wonderful that every house should
seek to hang out a white banner in honour of the Angelic Maid, and
her pure whiteness of soul and body?
"I will come to you by the bridge," had been her own word; and now,
behold, the bridge was there! Like Trojans had the men worked
beneath the eagle eyes of La Hire.
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