During these sanguinary operations two royal ladies, each in her castle boudoir,--at Angers and at Nancy,--were devoured with anxiety and apprehension: the mother and the wife of René--“good” Queen Yolande and “fair” Duchess Isabelle. Their part was to watch and pray, for each was exercising a lieutenant-generalcy for her absent hero. Very well could they each have donned their coats of mail, like Jeanne d’Arc, for each was to the manner born; but the closer ties and dearer of motherhood could not be renounced. Queen Marie also played nobly the woman’s part; she had her family cares also, and, now that her consort was like a lion roused, her tact and love had much to do to restrain his ardour. Charles was not a soldier born, nor had he been trained in military command, so his presence in the field was fraught with risk and danger; his forte was in reserve. Whilst Marie grasped the bridle of his charger, Agnes Sorel loosened the girdle of his mail, and he quietly reposed at Loches. La Pucelle now assumed another rôle. By heavenly advice she had been content to guide the destiny of Charles; now her “Voices” bade her command in person the army of France against the foe. The experienced military leaders, one and all, were discounted, and on September 8 she took actual command-in-chief, and opened the attack on Paris. It was on the waning of that fête-day of the Virgin that Jeanne, in all her flashing panoply of war, scaled the first ladder raised against the Port St. Denis; but, alas! before she could place her foot upon the battlement her thigh was pierced by an arrow, and she fell. Shades, too, of night were falling, and René sounded the retreat, whilst many a gallant heart trembled more for La Pucelle than for the temporary check. Helped by Guy de Laval and Jean de Clermont, as constant as himself, the young chief of the staff placed tenderly the wounded Maid upon a sumpter-horse, and himself led her to the nuns’ quarters at the Chapelle de St. Denis hard by, and assisted to dress her wound. René rallied the flower of the French forces, and many a grizzled warrior and many a beardless recruit felt the influence of his enthusiasm--whilst all were ready to lay down their lives for La Pucelle, and mingle their blood with hers. A quaint couplet says: “La dit il mante la fière bande Que le fier Prince René commande!”