"Jeanne," said the Archbishop of Rheims, taking the first word, probably with the ready instinct of a conspirator to excuse himself from having helped to shut her out, "the King and his council are in great perplexity to know what they should do." "Shall I be believed if I speak?" said the Maid. "I cannot tell," replied the King, interposing; "though if you say things that are reasonable and profitable, I shall certainly believe you." "Shall I be believed?" she repeated. "Yes," said the King, "according as you speak." "Noble Dauphin," she exclaimed, "order your people to assault the city of Troyes, to hold no more councils; for, by my God, in three days I will introduce you into the town of Troyes, by love or by force, and false Burgundy shall be dismayed." "Jeanne," said the Chancellor, "if you could do that in six days, we might well wait." "You shall be master of the place," said the Maid, addressing herself steadily to the King, "not in six days, but to-morrow." And then there occurred once more the now habitual scene. It was no longer the miracle it had been to see her dash forward to her post under the walls with her standard which was the signal for battle, to which the impatient troops responded, confident in her, as she in herself. But for the first time we hear how the young general, learning her trade of war day by day, made her preparations for the siege. She was a gunner born, according to all we hear, and was quick to perceive the advantage of her rude artillery though she had never seen one of these _bouches de feu_ till she encountered them at Orleans. The whole army was set to work during the night, knights and men-at-arms alike, to raise--with any kind of handy material, palings faggots, tables, even doors and windows, taken it must be feared from some neighbouring village or faubourg--a mound on which to place the guns. The country as we have said is as flat as the palm of one's hand. They worked all night under cover of the darkness with incredible devotion, while the alarmed townsfolk not knowing what was being done, but no doubt divining something from the unusual commotion, betook themselves to the churches to pray, and began to ponder whether after all it might not be better to join the King whose armies were led by St. Michael himself in the person of his representative, than to risk a siege. Once more the spell of the Maid fell on the defenders of the place. It was witchcraft, it was some vile art. They had no heart to man the battlements, to fight like their brothers at Orleans and Jargeau in face of all the powers of the evil one: the cry of "_Sus! Sus!_" was like the death-knell in their ears.