"Ha! my standard! my standard!" she cried, and she so shook the flag that it waved wildly like a signal for instant onset. The men-at-arms conceived it to be such a signal, and gathered for attack.
"Ha! Basque, is this what you promised me?" cried d'Aulon. Thereon the Basque tore the flag from the hands of the Maid, ran through the ditch, and stood beside d'Aulon, close to the enemy's wall. By this time the whole company of those who loved her had rallied and were round her.
"Watch!" said Joan to a knight at her side, "Watch till the tail of my standard touches the wall!"
A few moments passed.
"Joan, the flag touches the wall!"
"Then enter, all is yours!"[41]
Then, like a wave of the sea, the French flung themselves upon the ladders; scaled the wall, mounted the crest, leaped or fell down on the inside; cut, thrust, hacked, all with such irresistible fury that the English, after valiant resistance, finally turned and fled to the drawbridge that crossed to the Tourelles.
Ah! The bridge was in flames! Smoke rolled over it, tongues of flame shot out red between the planks.
Seeing this, Joan's heart went out to the men who had wronged and insulted her, yet had fought so valiantly.
"Glasdale!" she cried; "Glasdale! yield thee to the King of Heaven! Thou calledst me harlot, but I have great pity on thy soul and the souls of thy company!"