The town of Rheims lay before us. The inhabitants were pouring
forth to meet us. We saw them coming over the plain, as we watched
the walls and buildings, glowing in the mystic radiance of the
summer's evening, loom up larger and grander and sharper before us.
It was no dream!
And yet who would have thought it possible three months ago? In
mid-April the iron grip of the English lay all over the land north
of the Loire, and the south lay supine and helpless, stricken with
the terror of the victorious conqueror. Orleans was at its last
gasp, and with its fall the last bulwark would be swept away; all
France must own the sway of the conqueror. The King was powerless,
indolent, ready to fly at the first approach of peril, with no hope
and no desire for rule, doubtful even if he had the right to take
upon himself the title of King, careless in his despair and his
difficulties. The army was almost non-existent; the soldiers could
scarce be brought to face the foe. One Englishman could chase ten
of ours. The horror as of a great darkness seemed to have fallen
upon the land.
Pages:
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297