And then, because none of her attendants would drag the bolt from her shoulder for fear of hurting her, she herself pulled it out, and as the blood gushed out she swooned. Father Pasquerel, who was surgeon as well as priest, dressed the wound with a compress soaked in oil, and Jeanne, recovering from her faint, made her confession to him, then lay quiet. Meantime the battle languished. Discouraged assailants were drawing back from the boulevard out of bow-shot, and Dunois himself thought that there was no hope of victory, the day being nearly spent, and the men weary. So he had the recall sounded, and gave orders to retreat across the river. Brave work had been done, and the captains had not hoped to take the place in a month. The bugle notes of the retreat were welcome music to the English, and to the wearied French who had fought without cessation for thirteen hours. But when they sounded on the ears of the wounded Maid she heard them with amazement. She rose in haste, and somehow managed to mount her horse, and so rode to Dunois. "Doubt not," she said. "They are ours. Rest a little. Eat something. Refresh yourselves, and wait for me a little." With that she withdrew into a little vineyard close by, and prayed for the half of a quarter of an hour. When she appeared again her eyes were shining, her whole appearance that of one inspired. "On," she cried, "the place is ours." And she spurred toward the fosse. Now her standard had not been removed from the edge of the moat, for D'Aulon had kept it there to be a terror to the English and an inspiration to the French. When the trumpets had sounded the retreat he, being weary and outworn, had handed it to a Basque to be carried in the retirement. But after the order for the recall had been countermanded by Dunois at the request of the Maid, D'Aulon, moved to do a feat of arms, said to the Basque: "If I dismount and go forward to the foot of the wall, will you follow me?" "I will," said the Basque. So D'Aulon leaped into the fosse, his shield up, defying the English, but the Basque did not follow; for Jeanne, seeing her standard in the hands of a man whom she did not know, thought that it was lost, and seized hold of the floating end. "Ha! my standard! My standard!" she cried, and as she and the Basque struggled for it, the banner waved wildly like a signal for an immediate onset. The men-at-arms conceived it to be such and gathered for the attack. "Ha, Basque! Is this what you promised me?" cried D'Aulon, and the Basque tore the banner from the Maid, ran through the ditch and stood beside the emblem. By this time Jeanne's company stood about her. "Watch," said she to the knight at her side. "Watch till the tail of the standard touches the wall." A few moments passed. The great standard fluttered with the movements of the Maytime breeze. Presently the knight cried: "Jeanne, it touches!"