their principal leaders, Sir William Gladesdale, made up his mind to
abandon the outwork which he had hitherto so well kept, and retire within
the bastille itself. Joan perceived his movement. "Yield thee," she
shouted to him from afar; "yield thee to the King of Heaven! Ah!
Glacidas, thou hast basely insulted me; but I have great pity on the
souls of thee and thine." The Englishman continued his retreat. Whilst
he was passing over the drawbridge which reached from the out-work to the
bastille, a shot from the side of Orleans broke down the bridge;
Gladesdale fell into the water and was drowned, together with many of his
comrades; the French got into the bastille without any fresh fighting;
and Joan re-entered Orleans amidst the joy and acclamations of the
people. The bells rang all through the night, and the Te Deum was
chanted. The day of combat was about to be succeeded by the day of
deliverance.

On the morrow, the 8th of May, 1429, at daybreak, the English leaders
drew up their troops close to the very moats of the city, and seemed to
offer battle to the French. Many of the Orleannese leaders would have
liked to accept this challenge; but Joan got up from her bed, where she
was resting because of her wound, put on a light suit of armor, and ran
to the city gates. "For the love and honor of holy Sunday," said she to
the assembled warriors, "do not be the first to attack, and make to them
no demand; it is God's good will and pleasure that they be allowed to get
them gone if they be minded to go away; if they attack you, defend
yourselves boldly; you will be the masters." She caused an altar to be
raised; thanksgivings were sung, and mass was celebrated. "See!" said
Joan; "are the English turning to you their faces, or verily their
backs?" They had commenced their retreat in good order, with standards
flying. "Let them go: my Lord willeth not that there be any fighting
to-day; you shall have them another time." The good words spoken by Joan