They were lost from our sight, now and again, in a throng of Picards, Englishmen, Burgundians, for all have their part in this glory.

Swords and axes fell and rose, steeds countered and reeled, and then, they say, for this thing I myself did not see, a Picard archer, slipping under the weapons and among the horses' hoofs, tore the Maid from saddle by the long skirts of her hucque, and they were all upon her.

This befell within half a stone's-throw of the drawbridge.

While Flavy himself toiled with his hands, and tore at the cranks and chains, the Maid was taken under the eyes of us, who could not stir to help her.
Now was the day and the hour whereof the Saints told her not, though she implored them with tears.

Now in the throng below I heard a laugh like the sound of a saw on stone, and one struck him that laughed on the mouth.