orders were precise, and Joan herself hesitated. But news came that Talbot and the English were approaching. “Now,” said Joan, “we must think no more of anything but helping one another.” She rode forward to meet the constable, and saluted him courteously. “Joan,” said he, “I was told that you meant to attack me; I know not whether you come from God or not; if you are from God, I fear you not at all, for God knows my good will; if you are from the devil, I fear you still less.” He remained, and Beaugency was taken. The English army came up. Sir John Falstolf had joined Talbot. Some disquietude showed itself amongst the French, so roughly handled for some time past in pitched battles. “Ah! fair constable,” said Joan to Richemont, “you are not come by my orders, but you are right welcome.” The Duke d’Alencon consulted Joan as to what was to be done. “It will be well to have horses,” was suggested by those about her. She asked her neighbors, “Have you good spurs?” “Ha!” cried they, “must we fly, then?” “No, surely,” replied Joan: “but there will be need to ride boldly; we shall give a good account of the English, and our spurs will serve us famously in pursuing them.” The battle began on the 18th of June, at Patay, between Orleans and Chateaudun. By Joan’s advice, the French attacked. “In the name of God,” said she, “we must fight. Though the English were suspended from the clouds, we should have them, for God hath sent us to punish them. The gentle king shall have to-day the greatest victory he has ever had; my counsel hath told me they are ours.” The English lost heart, in their turn; the battle was short, and the victory brilliant; Lord Talbot and the most part of the English captains remained prisoners. “Lord Talbot,” said the Duke d’Alencon to him, “this is not what you expected this morning.” “It is the fortune of war,” answered Talbot, with the cool dignity of an old warrior. Joan’s immediate return to Orleans was a triumph; but even triumph has its embarrassments and perils. She demanded the speedy march of the army upon Rheims, that the king might be crowned there without delay; but objections were raised on all sides, the objections of the timid and those of the jealous. “By reason of Joan the Maid,” says a contemporary chronicler, “so many folks came from all parts unto the king for to serve him at their own expense, that La Tremoille and others of the council were much wroth thereat, through anxiety for their own persons.” Joan, impatient and irritated at so much hesitation and intrigue, took upon herself to act as if the decision belonged to her. On the 25th of June she wrote to the inhabitants of Tournai, “Loyal Frenchmen, I do pray and require you to be all ready to come to the coronation of the gentle King Charles, at Rheims, where we shall shortly be, and to come and meet us when ye shall learn that we are approaching.” Two days afterwards, on the 27th of