But now they were assailed from all sides, the little company fighting, struggling, contesting every inch of ground, beating off their adversaries, and advancing little by little toward the boulevard. "We shall make it, Jeanne," exulted Pierre D'Arc when they were within a stone's throw of the walls, but the words died on his lips, for at this moment came a ringing order from the gate: "Up drawbridge: close gates: down portcullis!" Instantly the drawbridge flew up, down came the portcullis, the gates were closed and barred. Jeanne the Maid was shut out. A groan came from Pierre's lips, but his sister smiled at him bravely; as old D'Aulon shouted: "Treachery! In God's name, open for the Maid." But the gates were closed, and the drawbridge remained up. There was a second's interchange of looks between the brothers and sister as the enemy with shouts of triumph closed around them in overwhelming numbers. Only a second, but in that brief time they took a mute farewell of each other. Man after man of the little company was cut down or made prisoner. D'Aulon was seized, then Jean, then Pierre, and Jeanne found herself struggling in the midst of a multitude of Anglo-Burgundians. One seized her wrists, while a Picard archer tore her from the saddle by the long folds of her crimson hucque, and in a moment they were all upon her. "Yield your faith to me," cried the Picard archer, who had seized her hucque. "I have given my faith to another than you, and I will keep my oath," rang the undaunted girl's answer. At this moment there came a wild clamour of bells from the churches of Compiègne in a turbulent call to arms to save the Maid. Their urgent pealing sounded too late. Jeanne D'Arc had fought on her last field. The inspired Maid was a prisoner. ----- [23] Percéval De Cagny. [24] So spelled in the patent. A softening of the Lorraine D'Arc. [25] These words are on the base of a statue of her that stands in the square of the town. [26] Monstrelet--a Burgundian Chronicler--so writes of her. CHAPTER XXV IN PRISON CELLS "_It was fit that the savior of France should be a woman. France herself is a woman. She has the fickleness of the sex, but also its amiable gentleness, its facile and charming pity, and the excellence of its first impulses._" MICHELET. "_Joan of Arc._"