“What do you fear, Joan?” said the King. “If you are wounded it shall be my care to heal you. If you are captured by the English I will release you, if it costs half my kingdom. You are the guardian angel of France. I cannot let you go.” He placed her in command of his own corps and sent her once more into the tumult of battle. On the 27th of May Joan appeared with her army before Compiègne,[28] which was occupied by the French but was closely invested by the Duke of Burgundy, who was in alliance with the English. She successfully entered the city, and of course was received with the greatest enthusiasm. Early on the next day she made a sally at the head of six hundred troopers. She wore her usual armor, with a short silver-gilt cape over it, and carried her small battle-axe, sword, and banner. Philip of Burgundy’s army was composed of experienced troops, and its various divisions were led by Noyelles, John of Luxemburg, and John of Montgomery. Joan swept among them like a whirlwind, carrying everything before her, and for the time throwing them into utter confusion. A cry of terror—“The Maiden, the Maiden”—was raised in the camp, but when Philip of Burgundy appeared with reinforcements the English, recovering from their first surprise and confusion, began to hold their ground. Finding herself confronted by a tenfold increased force, she ordered a retreat. She was the last in the line, and was closely pressed by the enemy, but when the boldest of them came too close she turned upon them and drove them back. In this manner she forced her way successfully to the gate. As there was much crowding and disorder there, she turned once more at the head of her rear guard against her pursuers, and beat them back, thus gaining time for her troopers to get into the city; but when she herself made a dash for the gate she found an English troop barring the way. She slashed right and left and hewed her way through; but, alas! the gate was shut. No one heard her call, no one opened the gate, for it was feared that the English might rush through. Joan turned her horse, hoping to reach open country or find another gate. The enemy, seeing that she rode alone, plucked up courage. She was quickly surrounded, and a desperate fight ensued. An archer stole under her horse, seized her by her velvet cape, and pulled her down. She gathered all her strength for a last effort, but, overcome by superior numbers, sank exhausted upon her knee, and still fought on with her little remaining strength. Longingly she watched the city, but no one came to her rescue. At last she surrendered her sword to Lionel, one of the leaders in the Duke of Luxemburg’s corps. “The Maiden is captured,” shouted the soldiers. The news flew from place to place and from troop to troop. The English celebrated the event with as much enthusiasm as if they had won a pitched battle. Well might they rejoice, for Joan’s prowess had cost them two-thirds of their French possessions.