"Will your Majesty allow me to remind her that Maurevert has just

received the necklace of the Order of St. Michael for having put the

Huguenot captain, Monsieur Mouy to death, after having penetrated into

the camp of the reformers under the pretext that he renounced the

Catholic faith and embraced the Reformation? I would wish to be the

object of a like distinction."

"Monsieur La Riviere, you shall be as satisfied with us as we are with

you. Assassination, committed in the service of the King, deserves to be

rewarded. You shall be decorated Knight of the Order of St. Michael."

The captain of the guards of the Duke of Anjou saluted the Queen and

withdrew as Monsieur Gondi entered in traveling costume. This Italian

shared with his countryman Birago the confidence of Catherine De Medici.

Delighted, the Queen took two steps towards Gondi, saying with impatient

curiosity:

"What tidings from Bayonne?"

"Madam, I do not come alone. I bring with me the reverend Father

Lefevre, one of the luminaries of the faith, a pupil and disciple of the

celebrated Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Order of Jesuits."

"But what is the result of your particular mission?"

"At the very first words with which I broached the matter to the Duke of

Alva, he stopped me, saying: 'Monsieur Gondi, the reverend Father

Lefevre is just about to proceed to the Queen for the purpose of

considering with her the matter that brings you here. He has received

the instructions of my master and of the Holy Father. He will disclose

those instructions to the Queen.' It was impossible for me to draw

anything further from the Duke of Alva. Accordingly, I had no choice but

to return, madam, and to bring Father Lefevre to you."

"This is strange. What sort of a man is the Jesuit?"

"An impenetrable man. You can neither divine his thoughts, nor pick the

lock of his secrets. You may judge for yourself when you shall have him

before you. He requests an audience this very evening."

"And my daughter? What news from my poor Elizabeth?"

"The health of the Queen of Spain declines steadily, madam. She no

longer leaves her bed."

"Alas, Gondi, we one of these days shall hear that Philip II has

poisoned my daughter, as we learned last year that he caused his own

son, Don Carlos, to be put to death. Oh, Philip! Thou crowned monk! Thou

vampire that feedst on human blood!" And after a short pause: "Fetch me

the Jesuit."

Gondi left and returned almost immediately, accompanied by the one-time

friend of Christian the printer. The Queen made a sign to Gondi to be

left alone with the Jesuit.

"You are Father Lefevre, and belong to the Society of Jesus? I

understand that our Holy Father and the King of Spain have charged you

with a mission to me. Speak, I am listening."

"Madam, the Holy Father and his Majesty Philip II are very much

displeased--with you. Deign to acquaint yourself with this letter from

his Holiness."

The Jesuit extracted from a silk wallet a schedule sealed with the

pontifical seal, carried it respectfully to his lips, and handed it over

to Catherine De Medici. The Queen broke the seal and read:

Madam and dearly beloved daughter:

In no way and for no reason whatever should you spare the enemies

of God. I have issued orders to the commander of my troops, the

Count of Santa Fiore, that _he cause all the Huguenots that may

fall into the hands of his soldiers to be_ KILLED ON THE SPOT.

Accordingly, no human considerations for persons or things should

induce you to spare the enemies of God, they never having spared

either God or yourself. Only through the complete extermination of

the heretics will the King be able to restore his noble kingdom to

the old religion. The felons must be put to just torture and death.

Receive, madam, our apostolic benediction.

PIUS.[62]

After reading the apostolic schedule, Catherine De Medici placed it upon

a table and proceeded:

"I see, reverend Father, that both at Rome and Madrid I am charged with

tolerance towards the Huguenots. I am blamed with prolonging the war.

The two courts see in all this a political calculation on my part,

whence it follows that if I continue to displease Rome and Madrid

measures will be taken--"

"The Holy Father, the vicar of God on earth, has the power to release

subjects from obedience to their sovereign, if he falls into heresy,

deals with the same, or tolerates it."

"Proceed, reverend Father."

"The confirmatory bull of his Holiness Paul IV is formal--the Pope of

Rome, by virtue of his divine right, is vested with power to

excommunicate, suspend and depose all Kings guilty of divine _lese

majeste_, or tolerant toward that irremissible crime. After which, the

throne being declared vacant, it devolves upon the first good

Catholic--who make take possession."

"That sounds like a threat, directed at my son Charles IX and at

myself."

"It is a paternal warning, madam."

"In plain words, my son runs the risk of seeing himself deposed by the

Pope."

"A disagreeable possibility, madam."

"Reverend Father, assuming the throne is declared vacant--by whom will

our Holy Father have it filled? Surely not by a Bourbon, seeing the

house of Bourbon is heretical. Consequently, the good Catholic Rome and

Spain have in view probably is young Henry of Guise, the descendant of

Charlemagne, according to the theory of the house of Lorraine."

"That is a temporal question which does not concern me, madam. It is,

however, a notable fact that young Henry of Guise, son of the martyr of

Orleans, carries a name that is dear to all Catholics."

"Accordingly, the purpose of your mission, reverend Father, is to convey

a threat to me? But why blame me, a woman, with the slowness of the

military operations against the Huguenots?"

"It is believed, madam, that you would look with too much disfavor upon

a chief who would insure speedy triumph to the Catholic armies, and that

you deliberately hamper the military operations by inciting rivalry

among the several captains and setting them at odds. The strategic

mistake of allowing the Duke of Deux-Ponts to penetrate into the very

heart of France and carry a reinforcement of troops to the Huguenots is

laid to your door. The junction of the two army corps is now an

accomplished fact."

"The Duke of Deux-Ponts!" exclaimed Catherine De Medici with a sinister

smile. "You do not seem to know what has befallen that heretic chief.

But, before speaking of the miscreant, I wish to put you in condition to

appreciate the facts concerning myself. I shall be frank--my interests

command it."

"Madam, I am ready to hear."

"In order that you may have the key to my falsely interpreted conduct, I

shall begin by making the following declaration to you--I have no

religion! Does such an introduction, perchance, astonish or shock you?"

"By no means."

"Then, my reverend Father, we shall be able to understand each other.

You justify--according to what is reported of your Order--tolerance for

vice, provided appearances are saved. Now, then, I have no religion. It

follows that I concern myself only with promoting my own ambition."

"Frankness can not be carried further."

"With the same outspokenness I shall add that I love power--to rule is

life to me. I have been compared to Queen Brunhild. It is said I wink at

precocious debauchery among my children with the view of unnerving and

stupefying them. It is claimed I sow the seed of jealousy, intrigue and

lechery among them."

"Those things are said--and many more, and more grave, madam."

"Some credence must be accorded to _hear say_, reverend Father. At

least, in what concerns myself, people are rarely wide of the mark. But

let me proceed. The religious wars have furnished me with the means of

alternately cropping the crests, now with the aid of the ones, then with

the aid of the others, of both the Catholic and the Protestant

seigneurs, who, during my husband's reign, conceived the design of

restoring their old feudal sovereignties. I still have the house of

Guise to contend with, as Brunhild of old had the stewards of the palace

on her hands. Thus I combated the Reformation, or gave comfort to the

Huguenots against the Catholics, according as political exigencies

dictated. At present I am well acquainted with the purposes of the

Protestants, and I know how to conduct myself in order to annihilate

them--when the moment shall have come to strike the decisive blow."

"You have unfolded to me your theories, madam, but you have recited not

a single act in support of your predilection for our holy Church. We

require proofs."

"Now let us pass to acts, reverend Father. A few minutes ago you

mentioned the name of the Duke of Deux-Ponts, who hurried from Germany

in aid of the Huguenots Conde, Coligny and his brother Dandelot."

"The hydra-heads of the heresy, madam."

"Well, reverend Father, already the hydra has three heads less. The Duke

of Deux-Ponts is dead; Monsieur Dandelot is dead; the Prince of Conde is

dead!"

The Jesuit, though stupefied, contemplated Catherine De Medici

challengingly.

"Perhaps you would like to have some details concerning these great

events," the imperturbable Queen pursued. "I shall satisfy your

curiosity. The day following his junction with the Protestant army, the

Duke of Deux-Ponts was poisoned. That is the word which is current. But

you, reverend Father, and myself, look to facts, not words. The Duke of

Deux-Ponts was poisoned with a cup of Spanish wine, that was poured out

to him by a young beauty. Two days later, Dandelot, who suffered of a

slow fever, was coaxed by another young beauty to swallow a

pharmaceutical potion that quickly carried away both the disease and the

patient. At the battle of Jarnac, the Prince of Conde, who had

surrendered his sword to D'Argence under promise that his life would be

safe, was shot down dead with a pistol by Montesquiou, a captain of my

son of Anjou's guards. The occurrence came near turning my son crazy,

such was his joy! When notified of what had happened, he hastened to the

spot to see the corpse with his own eyes. He kicked it, and danced over

and around it. It was a delirium! Finally, for fun, the thought struck

him of placing the corpse across a she-ass, with the head dangling down

on one side, the legs on the other. On that distinguished mount he

returned the defunct general to the Protestant army, amid the hootings

and cat-calls of our own soldiers.[63] That is the way my children treat

their heretical relatives. Will his Holiness still insist that we deal

with the Huguenots, or that we have any consideration for the enemies of

the Church?"

"Oh, madam!" cried the Jesuit, almost choking with glee. "I lack words

to express to you my admiration."

"And yet you claimed," proceeded Catherine De Medici with a hyena-like

smirk, "that I favored the Huguenots! Would the Guisards, the Holy

Father or Philip II do better than I? Hardly has the campaign opened

when Conde, the soul of the French Protestant party, has ceased to

breathe; the Duke of Deux-Ponts, the soul of the German party, has

ceased to live; and Dandelot, one of the ablest Protestant generals, is

also dead. Nor is that all!" added the Italian woman, taking from the

table the letter of the Duke of Anjou, freshly brought to her by the

captain of her son's guards, and passing it over to Lefevre, "Read

this!"

The Jesuit took the letter, and, after informing himself of its

contents, cried, contemplating the Queen with ecstasy:

"So that we may expect, to-morrow, to see Coligny effect a junction with

his brother Dandelot!"

"Well, now, do you not think I have done a good deal of work?"

"Oh, you have accomplished and even exceeded all that the Holy Father

and the King of Spain could have asked!"

"And yet, I still have information for you." Saying this, the Queen rang

twice the bell near her. A page appeared. "Bring me," ordered Catherine,

"the ebony casket that you will find in my chamber, on the table near my

bed."

The page went out and Catherine turned again to the Jesuit:

"You surely know Prince Franz of Gerolstein by name and reputation?"

"I know, madam, that the principality of that heretical family is a

hot-bed of pestilence. We keep our eyes open upon that nest of

miscreants."

"The Duke of Deux-Ponts appointed as commander of his troops the aged

general Wolfgang of Mansfeld, but did so with the recommendation that

the active direction of operations be entrusted to the Prince of

Gerolstein, a young, but one of the ablest German generals. This very

night one of my maids of honor is to depart--"

The re-entrance of the page broke off the Queen's sentence. He deposited

the casket beside Catherine and withdrew.

"You were saying, madam," observed Father Lefevre, "that one of your

maids of honor was to depart this very night--"

"You seem to relish deeply my communications, reverend Father, and yet

it was only a few minutes ago that you almost treated me like a Huguenot

woman."

"Mercy, madam, a truce of raillery. The unexpected and happy tidings you

have imparted to me were not known by the Holy Father and the King of

Spain when I left them. I declare to you, madam, that these events

modify profoundly my mission to your court."

"Well, reverend Father, I am constantly saying to the Spanish ambassador

and the papal legate in France: 'Wait--let me do--have patience.' But

all to no avail. The Holy Father yields to the inspirations of the

agents of the Cardinal of Lorraine, while Philip II dreams of the

dismemberment of France and desires to place Henry of Guise on the

throne. In that Philip II plays a risky game, reverend Father! To

overthrow the reigning dynasty of France would be to set a bad example

to the people, and to deal a mortal blow to monarchy itself. We are

living in frightful times. Everything conspires against royalty. The

Huguenots, at least some of them who style themselves the most advanced

in politics, proclaim the people's right to federate in a republic after

the fashion of the Swiss cantons. And even you, my reverend Fathers, you

also attack royal authority by preaching the doctrine of regicide."

"That is true, madam; we maintain that the Kings who do not labor for

the greater glory of the Church must be smitten from the throne."

"Neither my sons nor I refuse to labor for the greater glory of the

Church. It must be a matter of indifference to the Holy Father whether

the Huguenots are exterminated by us or by the Guises, or by Spain. What

advantage could the court of Rome derive from suppressing the dynasty of

Valois?"

"His Holiness sees clearly through the game of the King of Spain. He

will never favor Philip's ambitious designs to the injury of your

dynasty--unless obliged thereto by your resistance to the court of Rome.

We aim at the extirpation of heresy by the extermination of the

Huguenots; and I have been commissioned, madam, to urge you to prosecute

the war with vigor--"

"The war!" broke in the Queen impatiently, and with marked contempt and

irony. "How come you, a Jesuit, a man of keenness and science, to make

yourself the echo of the Pope and of Philip II, two nearsighted

intellects? Let us reason together, my reverend Father. Would you, if

you want to kill your enemy, choose the time when he is on his guard and

armed? Would you not wait for when he sheathed his sword and was

peacefully asleep in his house? And in order to lead him to that state

of apparent security, would you not approach him with a smile on your

lips, your hand outstretched, and with the words: 'Let us forget our

enmity'?"

"But for the success of such tactics our enemy must have confidence in

us."

"Protestations of friendship are supported by oaths."

"Oh! Oh! Vain hope! Your Majesty errs if you believe you can lull the

suspicions of the Huguenots with oaths."

"I am of the school of Machiavelli, reverend Father; as such I have

faith in the efficacy of oaths. Listen to this passage from the volume

entitled _The Prince_. I learned it by heart; it deals upon this very

subject: 'The animals whose appearance a Prince must know how to assume

are the _fox_ and the _lion_. The former defends himself but poorly

against the wolf, while the latter readily falls into the snares laid

for him. From the fox a Prince will learn how to be adroit, from the

lion how to be strong. Whoever disdains the method of the fox knows

nothing of governing men. In other words, a Prince neither can nor

should keep his word, except when he can do so without injury to

himself. The thing is to play his part well, and to know when to feign

and dissimulate. To cite but one instance: Pope Alexander VI made

deception his life-work. This notwithstanding, despite his well known

faithlessness, he succeeded in all his artifices, protestations and

oaths.' Did you hear, reverend Father," added the Italian woman

interrupting her recitation and laying stress upon the word _oaths_, and

she proceeded: "'Never before did any Prince break his word more

frequently, or respect his pledges less, because he was master of the

art of governing.'[64] Alexander VI was an incestuous Pope; he committed

murder and sacrilege, yet there were those who believed they could rely

upon his oath. I am said to be an incestuous mother; I am said to have

caused blood to flow in streams; I am said to have caused my enemies to

be poisoned; all these and many more misdeeds are imputed to me. Very

well! Now, all this notwithstanding, they will place faith in my oaths.

Judge the future by the past. Remember that after the revocation of the

Edict of Amboise, the Huguenot party allowed itself to be trepanned by

the Edict of Longjumeau, confirmed by our royal word. But let us now

pass to another line of argument, my reverend Father. Please hand me

yonder casket--not the one the page just brought in, the other."

The Jesuit placed on the table before the Queen the casket that she

pointed out. She opened it with a little key suspended from her waist,

and took out of it a scroll of paper which she handed to Father Lefevre.

"Inform yourself on this document, reverend Father," she said.

Father Lefevre read as follows:

"Summary of the matters primarily agreed upon between the Duke of

Montmorency, Constable; the Duke of Guise, Grand Master and Peer of

France; and Marshal St. Andre, for the conspiracy of the

triumvirate, and subsequently discussed at the entrance of the

sacred and holy Council of Trent, and agreed upon by the parties

herein concerned at their private council held against the heretics

and the King of Navarre, because of his maladministration of the

affairs of Charles IX, minor King of France, the which King of

Navarre is a partisan of the new sect which now infests France."

The Jesuit looked surprised. Deeply interested, he asked: "How is your

Majesty in possession of this secret pact?"

"It matters not how."

The Jesuit proceeded to read:

"In order that the affair be conducted under the highest authority,

it is agreed to vest the superintendence of the whole plan in the

Very Catholic King of all the Spains, Philip II, who shall conduct

the enterprise. He is to remonstrate with the King of Navarre on

the score of the support that he affords to the new religion; and

if the said Navarrais proves intractable, the said King Philip II

is to endeavor to draw him over to him with the promise of the

restitution of Navarre, or some other gift of great profit or

emolument. By these means the said King Philip II is to soften him,

to the end of inducing him to conspire against the heretical sect.

If he still resists, King Philip II shall raise the necessary

forces in Spain, and fall unexpectedly upon the territory of

Navarre, which he will be easily able to be overrun, while the Duke

of Guise, declaring himself at the same time _chief of the Catholic

confession_, shall from his side gather armed men, and, thus

pressed from two sides, the territory of Navarre can be easily

seized."

"So you see, reverend Father, the pact dates back to 1651--eight years

ago--and already then did Francis of Guise declare himself _chief of the

Catholic confession_, under the protection of the King of Spain. Neither

myself, the Regent, nor my son, the King of France, although then a

minor, is at all taken into consideration."

The Jesuit proceeded to read aloud:

"The Emperor of Germany and other Princes who have remained

Catholic shall block the passages to France during the war in that

country, in order to prevent the Protestant Princes from coming to

the aid of the Navarrais, and they will also see to it that the

Swiss cantons remain quiet. To that end it will be necessary that

the Catholic cantons declare war upon the Protestant ones, and that

the Pope give all the assistance in his power to the said Catholic

cantons, and that he subsidize them with money and other

necessaries for the war.

"While war is thus keeping France and Switzerland busy, the Duke of

Savoy shall fall unexpectedly upon Geneva and Lausanne, shall seize

the two cities, _and shall put all the inhabitants who resist to

the sword, and all the others shall be thrown into the lake_,

WITHOUT DISTINCTION OF AGE OR SEX, to the end that all may be made

to feel that divine Providence has compensated for the postponement

of punishment with its grandeur, and wills that the children suffer

for the heresy of their parents, obedient to the Biblical text."

"Oh, we must all admit, madam," exclaimed the Jesuit, interrupting his

reading, "Duke Francis of Guise is nourished with the marrow of

Catholicism--"

"We of the house of Valois will suck the identical bone, and we will

verify the dream of the Guisard, who was assassinated the very day after

he signed this pact--"

Again the Jesuit proceeded to read:

"The same in France. For good and just reasons _all the heretics,

without distinction, must be massacred at one blow_. THE PEACE

SHALL BE PUT TO THAT USE. And this mission of exterminating all the

members of the new religion shall be entrusted to the Duke of

Guise, who shall, moreover, be charged with entirely effacing the

name and stock of the lineage of the Navarrian Bourbons, lest from

them there may arise some one to undertake the revenge of these

acts, or the restoration of the new religion. All these matters are

to be kept in mind.

"Matters being thus disposed of in France, it will be well to

invade Protestant Germany with the aid of the Emperor and the

bishops, and to restore that country to the holy apostolic See. To

this end, the Duke of Guise _shall lend the Emperor and other

Catholic Princes all the moneys proceeding from the confiscations

and spoils of so many nobles and rich bourgeois_, KILLED _in

France_ as HERETICS. The Duke of Guise shall be later reimbursed

from the _spoils of the Lutherans, who, by reason of the same taint

of heresy shall have been killed in Germany_.

"The Cardinals of the Sacred College have no doubt that, in the

same manner, all the other kingdoms can be turned into the flocks

of the apostolic shepherd. But, first of all, may it please God to

help and favor these purposes, they being HOLY AND FULL OF

PIETY."[65]

"Holy and full of piety were these Catholic purposes!" exclaimed the

reverend Father Lefevre laying the pact of the triumvirate upon the

table. "Alas, death palsied the hand of the Duke of Guise at the very

beginning of his great work!"

"The Lord evidently wished, my reverend Father, to reserve for us, the

Valois, the execution of the project that the Guisard organized with a

motive of purely personal ambition. I shall hatch the bloody egg that

the Lorrainian laid. But the chick can not break the egg except during

peace. Then the Huguenots will have ceased to be on their guard; then

they will be dozing in false security. The work of extermination will be

accomplished with the help of a peace that we shall have brought about.

All will be killed--men and women, children and the aged. Not one

heretic will escape the avenging sword. Let Rome and Madrid give me time

to move! Let Pius V and Philip II give over harassing me continually

with their threats on the ground that the war is dragging along! Are

hostilities to be suddenly stopped? No, indeed! I must profit, as I have

already profited, by all opportunities to destroy as many Huguenots as

possible, especially their leaders. The Duke of Alva is right: 'One

salmon is worth more than a thousand minnows.' At the first favorable

juncture I shall negotiate peace with the Protestants, and grant them

all they may demand. The more favorable the treaty shall be to the

Huguenots, all the smoother will the rope run that is to strangle them.

When the edict is promulgated it shall be scrupulously carried out, in

order to induce our adversaries to disarm. At the right moment we shall

organize the general massacre, for one day, all over France."

"The Holy Father and the King of Spain shall be posted on your Majesty's

project. They will be notified that it is thanks to you, the Duke of

Deux-Ponts, Dandelot and the Prince of Conde _have been dismissed to

appear before their natural Judge_."

"People of your cloth, my reverend Father," replied the Queen, "know how

to impart an ingenious and peculiar turn to the description of events."

"Madam, seeing we are considering those people in whose behalf we simply

advance the hour of final judgment, I wish above all to recommend to the

attention of your Majesty that most dangerous German Prince--Franz of

Gerolstein."

"The young Prince came last year to my court shortly before the

reformers took up arms. He is brilliant, daring and gifted with great

military talent. It was due to his influence that the Duke of Deux-Ponts

decided to bring to the Protestant army the reinforcement it received of

German troops. To-day Franz of Gerolstein is the real head of the forces

over which Wolfgang of Mansfeld exercises but titular authority."

"Do you expect to deliver the Church of that pestilential Gerolstein?"

"One of my maids of honor is to take charge of that delicate mission, my

reverend Father--" and stopping suddenly short and listening in the

direction of a little door that communicated with the apartment,

Catherine De Medici asked: "Did you not hear a sound, something like a

suppressed cry outside there?"

"No, madam."

"It seems to me I heard a voice behind that door. Throw it open,"

whispered Catherine to Father Lefevre; "see, I beg you, if there is

someone listening!"

The Jesuit rose, pushed open the door, looked out, and returned: "Madam,

I can see nobody; the corridor is dark."

"I must have deceived myself. It must have been the moaning of the wind

that I heard."

"Madam," said Father Lefevre as he resumed his seat, "once we are

considering dangerous persons, I request you to mention to your generals

two heretics in particular--Odelin Lebrenn and his son, armorers by

trade, who serve in the Admiral's army as volunteers. I would urge you

to recommend to your generals that they spare the lives of both

heretics if they are ever taken prisoners."

"Did I understand you correctly, my reverend Father? The lives of the

two miscreants are to be spared?"

"The grace extended to them will be but a short respite, which we would

put to profit by wresting from them certain valuable secrets with the

aid of the rack--before dismissing them to their supreme Judge."

"Those are details, my reverend Father, with which I can not burden

myself. Upon such matters you must treat with Count Neroweg of

Plouernel, the chief of my escort."

At the name of Neroweg of Plouernel the Jesuit gave a slight start. With

a face expressive of gratification he remarked: "Madam, Providence

seconds my wishes. There is none fitter than the Count of Plouernel for

me to address myself to in this affair."

"Let us return to more weighty questions, my reverend Father. I have

still two words to say to you concerning the Cardinal of Lorraine. This

evening the Guisard strove to make me believe that Marshal Tavannes, the

commandant of the army of my son of Anjou, was treating secretly with

Coligny. According to the Cardinal, the plot is to offer my son the

sovereignty of the Low Countries, besides Guyenne and other provinces,

upon condition that he embrace the Reformed religion. Have you received

any inkling of these projects through your spies? Unless your own

interests render it necessary for you to deceive me on this head, answer

me truthfully. I know how to hear and bear the full truth on all

matters."

The Jesuit reflected for a moment; he then made answer: "Yes, madam; we

are informed on those negotiations--indeed, it is due to that very

information that it was decided to send me upon the present mission to

your Majesty."

"And, with the view of thwarting the plot, did the Cardinal of Lorraine

induce Philip II to propose the Duke of Alva to me for general-in-chief

of the Catholic army, with young Henry of Guise, the Cardinal's nephew,

and his brother, the Duke of Aumale, as Alva's lieutenants?"

"The proposition was made to the King of Spain. It is true."

"Who, no doubt, received it favorably?"

"Yes, madam. But his Catholic Majesty was not then aware of the latest

happenings which you communicated to me, the same as he is still

ignorant of your resolution to put an end to the heresy when the moment

shall have come to strike the decisive blow, as you explained it."

"You are now informed on the contents of the letter which I showed you

from my son of Anjou, regarding the project against Coligny. The

Cardinal lied knowingly when he accused my son of dealing with the

Admiral. Of course he knows the Marshal and my son will stoutly deny the

charge. He merely seeks to arouse doubts and suspicions in my mind,

hoping I may be frightened into transferring the command of the French

army into the hands of the Duke of Alva and his nephew."

"The Cardinal's falsehood, madam, did not lack skill. It was an adroit

diplomatic move."

"Now, my reverend Father, let me sum up our interview--war upon the

Huguenots, merciless war, while it lasts; thereupon the offer or

acceptance of a peace, which is to be utilized by us in preparing their

extermination. That is my line of conduct."

"My mission to you is ended, madam. To-morrow I shall take my departure

and return to inform the King of Spain and the Holy Father of the happy

deeds done, and those in contemplation, all of which guarantee the

execution of your promises for the future."

"My reverend Father, is it in my power to bestow any favor upon you, to

grant you a present? It is a right enjoyed by all negotiators."

"Madam, we care but little for the goods and honors of this world. All I

shall ask of you is to cause your son, King Charles IX, to change his

confessor, and take one from our Society, the reverend Father Auger. He

is an able and accommodating man, skilful in understanding everything,

permitting everything--and advising everything."

"I promise you I shall induce my son Charles to take Father Auger for

his confessor. Good night, my reverend Father, go and rest. I shall see

you to-morrow before your departure and deliver to you a letter for the

Holy Father."

The Queen rang twice the little bell that lay at her elbow. A page

entered: "Conduct the reverend Father to Count Neroweg of Plouernel."

She then rang again, not twice, but three times. After bowing to

Catherine De Medici the Jesuit withdrew upon the steps of the page.

Almost immediately Anna Bell stepped into the apartment through the door

that opened upon the corridor.

Catherine De Medici was struck by the pallor and the troubled, almost

frightened, looks of her maid of honor as she presented herself upon the

summons of the bell. Fastening a penetrating look upon Anna Bell, the

Queen said:

"You look very pale, dearest; your hands tremble; you seem unable to

repress some violent emotion."

"May your Majesty deign to excuse me--"

"What is the cause of your great agitation?"

"Fear, madam. I was hurrying to answer your summons, and--as I crossed

the dark corridor--whether it was an illusion or reality, I know not,

madam, I thought I saw a white figure float before me--"

"It must be the ghost of some deceased belle, who, expecting still to

find here the sturdy abbot of the monastery, came to pay him a nocturnal

visit. But let us leave the dead to themselves, and turn our thoughts to

the living. I love you, my pet, above all your companions."

"Your Majesty has taken pity upon a poor girl."

"Yes; it is now about eight or nine years ago, that, as Paula, one of my

women, was crossing the Chatelet Square, she saw an old Bohemian wench

holding a little girl by the hand. Struck by the beauty and comeliness

of the little one, Paula offered to buy her. The gypsy quickly closed

the bargain. Paula told me the story. I desired to see her protege. It

turned out to be yourself. The Bohemian woman must have kidnapped you

from some Huguenot family, I fear, judging from a little lead medal

that hung from your neck and bore the legend--_A Pastor calling the

sheep of the Church out of the desert_--a common expression in the

cabalistic cant of those depraved people."

"Alas! madam, I preserve no other memento of my family--you will pardon

me for having kept the medal."

"Well, from the instant that Paula brought you before me I was charmed

with your childish gracefulness. I had you carefully trained in the art

of pleasing, and placed you among my maids of honor."

"Your Majesty enjoys my unbounded gratitude. Whenever you commanded I

obeyed, even when you exacted a sacrifice--whatever it may have cost

me--"

"You are alluding, my pet, to the conversion of the Marquis of Solange!

I said to you: 'Solange is a Huguenot; he is influential in his

province; should war break out again, he may become a dangerous enemy to

me; he contemplates leaving the court;--make him love you, and be not

cruel to him; a handsome lass like you is well worth a mass.' The

bargain was struck. We now have one Catholic more, and one virgin less."

Anna Bell hid her face, purple with shame.

Without seeming to notice the young girl's confusion, Catherine De

Medici proceeded: "By the virtue of your beautiful eyes Solange has

become a fervent Catholic and one of my most faithful servitors. You

gave me in that instance proof of your complete devotion. For the rest,

it was a sweet sacrifice on your part, my pet; Solange is an

accomplished nobleman, young, handsome, brave and witty. It is not now

about that lover that we have business on hand. I have other plans for

you. I am thinking of marrying you. I wish to make a Princess of you,

and verify the most cherished of your secret wishes--which I have

guessed. Anna Bell, you do not love Solange; you never loved him; and

you nourish in the recesses of your heart a desperate passion for the

young Prince Franz of Gerolstein."

"Good God! Madam. Have pity upon me! Mercy!"

"There is nothing pitiful in the matter. The Prince is made to be loved.

His reputation for bravery, magnificence and gallantry ran ahead of him

to my court, where you saw him last year. He often conversed with you

tete-a-tete. When other women sought to provoke him with their

allurements your face grew somber. Oh, nothing escapes me! Affairs of

state do not absorb me to the point that I can not follow, with the

corner of my eye, the cooings of my maids of honor. It is my mental

relaxation. I love to see beauty in its youth devote itself to the cult

of Venus, and put in practice the saying of Rabelais' Thalamite--'_Do

what you please!_' How often did I not seat myself among you, my dear

girls, to chat about your gallants, your appointments, your

infidelities! What delightful tales did we not tell! How you all led the

poor youngsters by the nose! Truth to say, they returned you tit for

tat, and with usury, to the greater glory of the goddess Aphrodite! And

yet, my pet, although I had trained you a true professional of the Abbey

of Thalamia, with Cupid for your god and Voluptuousness for your patron

saint, you ever remained out of your element among your companions.

Serious and melancholy, you are a sort of nun among my other maids. What

you need is devoted and faithful love; a husband whom you can adore

without remorse; a brood of children to love. That is the reason, my

pet, why I wish to marry you to Franz of Gerolstein."

"It pleases your Majesty to mock me--take pity upon poor Anna."

"No joke! You admit you love the young and handsome German Prince. I can

read in your soul better than you could yourself. I shall tell you what

your thoughts are at this moment: 'Yes, I love Franz of Gerolstein! But

a deep abyss separates us two, and will always separate me from him. He

is in the camp opposed to that of the Queen, my benefactress; he is the

head of a sovereign house; he is ignorant of my passion, and if he did

know, he never could think of wedding me! What am I? A poor girl picked

up from the street. I already have had one gallant. Besides, Catherine

De Medici's maids of honor enjoy a bad, a deservedly bad, reputation.

The satires and the pasquils designate us with the appellation of the

Queen's Flying Squadron. I should be crazy to think of marriage with

Franz of Gerolstein--'"

"Madam, take pity upon me!" broke in Anna Bell, no longer able to

restrain her tears. "Even if what you say is true, even if you read to

the very core of my thoughts--please do not sport with my secret

sorrows."

"My pet, hand me the little casket of sandal wood, ribbed in gold, that

lies upon yonder table. It contains wonderful things."

Anna Bell obeyed. The Queen selected one of the little keys attached to

her girdle and opened the casket. Nothing could be more fascinating to

the eyes than the contents of the chest--embroidered and perfumed

gloves, smelling apples, dainty-looking vermillion confectionery boxes,

filled with sugar plums of all colors, and several vials of gold and

crystal. Catherine De Medici picked out one of these, reclosed the

casket carefully and returned it to Anna Bell. The maid of honor

replaced it upon the table and returned to the Queen. Smiling benignly

and holding up the golden, glistening vial before her victim, the Queen

said: "Do you see this, my pet? This little vial encloses the love of

Franz of Gerolstein."

"What a suspicion!" was the thought that flashed through Anna Bell's

mind and froze her to the floor. But the terror-stricken girl quickly

regained her self-control at that critical moment. "I must not," was the

second thought that flashed through her mind close upon the first, "I

must not allow the Queen to notice that I know her purpose."

"Do you believe, my pet, in the potency of love-philters?"

"This evening," answered the young girl with an effort to control her

emotions, "this very evening Clorinde of Vaucernay was telling us,

madam, that a lady of the court succeeded by means of one of those

enchanted potions in captivating a man who, before then, had a strong

dislike for her."

"You, then, believe in the potency of philters?"

"Certainly, madam," answered Anna Bell anxious not to awaken the Queen's

suspicions; "I must have full confidence in their efficacy, seeing it is

proved by such incontestable facts."

"The merest doubt on the subject is unallowable, my pet; to doubt would

be to shut one's eyes and deny the light of day. Now, my little beauty,

the philter contained in this vial, is put together by Ruggieri, my

alchemist, under the conjunction of marvelously favorable planets. It is

of such virtue that only a few drops, if poured out by a woman who

wishes to be loved by a man, would suffice to turn him permanently

amorous of her. Take this philter, my pet--go and find your Prince

Charming. Let him drink the contents of this vial--and grant him the

gift of an amorous mercy."

Anna Bell no longer suspected, she comprehended the Queen's intentions.

For a moment she was seized with terror and remained silent,

mechanically holding the vial in her hand. The Queen, on her part,

attributing the stupor and silence of Anna Bell to an excess of joy, or,

perhaps, to the apprehension caused her by the thought of the many and

great dangers to overcome in order to approach her Prince, proceeded to

allay her fears:

"Poor dear girl, you are as speechless as if, awakened with a start from

a dream, you find it a reality. You are surely asking yourself what to

do in order to reach Franz? Nothing easier--provided your courage is

abreast of your love."

Controlling her troubled mind, Anna Bell answered with composure: "I

hope, madam, I do not lack courage."

"Listen to me carefully. We are only a few leagues from the enemy's

army. I shall issue orders to Count Neroweg of Plouernel to furnish you

with a safe conduct up to the Huguenot outposts. You shall be carried in

one of my own litters, drawn by two mules. By dawn to-morrow morning you

can not fail to run against some scout or other making the rounds of the

Protestant camp--"

"Great God! madam. I tremble at the bare thought of falling into the

hands of the Huguenots!"

"If your courage fail you, all will run to water. But you may be quite

certain that you run no risk whatever. The Huguenots do not kill

women--especially not such handsome ones as yourself. You will be merely

the prisoner of the miscreants."

"And what am I to do then, madam?"

"You will say to those who will arrest you: 'Messieurs, I am one of the

Queen's maids of honor; I was on my way to join her Majesty; the leader

of my litter struck a wrong road; please take me to Prince Franz of

Gerolstein.' The rest will go of itself. The Huguenots will take you to

the Prince. Like the nobleman that he is, my little beauty, he will keep

you at his lodgings or in his tent, he will yield you the place of honor

at his table--and--in his bed. You will have more than one opportunity

to improve Franz's wine with a few drops of the philter."

The Queen's instructions were interrupted at this point by the entrance

of a page who came to announce that Count Neroweg of Plouernel prayed

for admission to the Queen's presence upon pressing and important

matters. Catherine ordered the page to introduce the Count, and she bade

Anna Bell godspeed, kissing her on the forehead and adding these last

instructions:

"Prepare immediately for your journey, my pet. The Count of Plouernel

will appoint the guide who is to accompany you. One of my equerries will

get a litter ready. I expect to see you again before your departure."

The maid of honor followed the Queen's instructions. Seeing that the

interview with the Count of Plouernel lasted longer than she had

anticipated, Catherine De Medici was prevented from seeing Anna Bell

again, and sent her a note to depart without delay.

Towards one o'clock in the morning the maid of honor mounted in one of

the Queen's litters, left the Abbey of St. Severin.

CHAPTER III.

THE AVENGERS OF ISRAEL.

The sun was rising. Its early rays gilded the crest of a forest about a

league distant from St. Yrieix, a large burg that served as the center

of the Protestant encampment. A chapel, formerly dedicated to St. Hubert

by an inveterate hunter, raised its dilapidated walls on the edge of the

wood, the skirts of which were now guarded by mounted scouts, posted at

long intervals. The chapel had been devastated during the religious

wars. Its belfries, the capitals and the friezes of its portico were

broken; its windows were smashed in; the statue of St. Hubert, the

patron of hunters, lay decapitated in the midst of other debris, along

with that of the seigneur who founded the holy shrine, chosen by him for

his sepulcher. The fragments of his marble image, representing him lying

prone, with hands joined in prayer, hunting horn slung over his

shoulder, his favorite greyhound stretched at his feet--all lay strewn

around the mortuary vault, now gaping wide open and cumbered with ruins.

The interior of the chapel now served as a stable, and also as

guardhouse to a picket squad of the Huguenot army, posted at the spot.

The pickets' horses, ready saddled and bridled, stood drawn up in

double row in one of the low-roofed aisles and on either side of a door

that communicated with the old vestry. For want of forage the beasts

were eating the green leaves of large bunches of branches thrown at

their feet. The riders, either standing, or seated, or stretched out at

full length, wrapped in their cloaks, were not dressed in uniform. Their

offensive and defensive arms, however, dissimilar and worn, were in

usable condition.

This band of Huguenot volunteers took the name of the Avengers of

Israel. Josephin, the Franc-Taupin, named by the Catholics "The

One-Eyed," was their commander. On all occasions the Avengers of Israel

approved themselves animated by an intrepidity that was matchless,

always claiming for themselves the post of greatest danger, and always

found first in battle. The indomitable courage of the Franc-Taupin, his

exceptional skill in guerilla warfare, his pitiless hatred for the

papists, upon whom he swore to avenge the fate of his sister Bridget and

his niece Hena, earned for him the leadership of these resolute men.

On this day, at sunrise, the commander presided at a species of tribunal

consisting of several of his companions in arms, all seated in the midst

of the ruins of the chapel of St. Hubert. The years had whitened the

hair and beard of the Franc-Taupin, without impairing the fiber of his

energy. An old rust-covered steel breastplate over his chest answered

the purpose of corselet; his wide hose of red cloth were half covered by

a pair of high leather boots heavy with dust; at his belt, which also

contained his cartridges, hung a short stick suspended from a piece of

pack-thread, and indented with sixteen notches--each tallying the death

of a priest or monk. The dagger of fine Milan steel, a present from

Odelin, hung on the Franc-Taupin's right side, while at his left he wore

a long sword with an iron hilt. The Franc-Taupin's bronzed and haggard

features, rendered all the more sinister by the large black patch which

covered one eye, were at this moment expressive of sardonic cruelty. He

was sitting in judgment upon a Cordelier, a man of tall and robust

build, who was captured in the early morning prowling in the forest.

Some letters found about his person proved that the tonsured gentleman

was a spy of the royalist army, and one of the Avengers of Israel

recognized him as one of the monks who took part in the carnage of

Mirebeau, where nearly twelve hundred Huguenot prisoners were put to

death with frightful refinements of cruelty. Surrounded by several of

his companions, who, like himself, were seated upon the ruins of the

altar, the Franc-Taupin drew his dagger and was engaged in leisurely

sharpening it upon a stone that he held between his knees, without

looking at the monk who, livid with rage and terror, and standing a few

steps aside with his arms tied behind his back, was uttering

maledictions at the top of his voice:

"Accursed and sacrilegious wretches! You abuse your strength! The hand

of the Lord will fall heavy upon you! Heretical dogs!"

The Franc-Taupin calmly sharpened his dagger. "Good!" he exclaimed. "Be

brave, my reverend! Disgorge your monastic bile! Crack your apostolic

hide! It will not make your fate any worse. Be prepared for the worst,

and you will still be far behind what I have in store for you. We care

nothing for your threats."

"Neither can anything render your fate worse than it will be,

reprobates," howled the Cordelier, "when the whole pack of you, to the

very last one, will be hurled into the pit of everlasting flames!"

"By my sister's death!" the Franc-Taupin answered. "You make a mistake

to mention 'flames.' You remind me of what I never forget--the fate of

my niece, who, poor innocent creature, was plunged twenty-five times

into the burning pyre. Brothers, instruct the tonsured fellow upon our

reasons for enrolling ourselves in the corps of the Avengers of Israel,

and why we are pitiless."

Accordingly, while the Franc-Taupin continued to whet his dagger, one of

the Huguenot soldiers thus addressed the monk:

"Monk, listen! In full peace, after the Edict of Orleans, my house was

invaded during my absence by a band of fanatics. The vicar of the parish

led them. My old and blind father, who remained at home in my house, was

strangled to death. It is to avenge my father that I enrolled myself

with the militia of the Avengers of Israel. Therefore, death to the

papist Church! Death to all the tonsured felons!"

"Marshal Montluc held command in Guyenne," continued a second Huguenot.

"Six soldiers, attached to his ordnance company, lodged at our

farm-house. One day they forced the cellar door, drank themselves drunk,

and violated my brother's wife. Wounded with cutlass cuts in his

endeavor to defend her, he dragged himself bleeding to the headquarters

of Marshal Montluc to demand justice. Montluc ordered him to be hanged!

Monk, I have sworn to avenge my brother! Death to the papists!"

"I also am from Guyenne, like my companion," came from another Huguenot.

"One Sunday, relying upon the Edict of Longjumeau, I attended services

with my mother and sister. A company of Marshal Montluc's swashbucklers,

led by a chaplain, invaded the temple, chased out the women, locked up

the men in the building, and set it on fire. There were sixty-five of us

inside, all without arms. Nine succeeded in making their escape from the

flames. The rest, burned, smothered by the smoke, or crushed under the

falling roof, all perished. The women and young girls were dragged to a

nearby enclosure; they were stripped to the skin; they were then

compelled at the point of pikes to dance naked before the papist

soldiers; and were finally forced to submit to the lechery of their

persecutors. My mother was killed in her endeavor to save my sister from

that crowning outrage; nine months later my sister died in childbed of

the fruit of her rape. Monk, I swore to avenge my sister! I swore to

avenge my mother! Death to the papist seigneurs and nobles!"

"I come from Montaland, near Limoges," a fourth Huguenot proceeded.

"Three months after the new edict, I attended services with my young

son. A band of peasants, led by two Carmelites and one Dominican, rushed

into the temple. My poor boy's head--he was not yet fifteen--was cut

off with a scythe, and stuck upon a pole. Monk, I swore to avenge my

son! Death to the whole monastic vermin!"

"Was it I, perchance, who committed the acts that you are seeking to

avenge?" howled the Cordelier. "Cowardly felons!"

At this the Franc-Taupin interrupted the sharpening of his dagger, cast

a sardonic look at the monk, and cried: "Oh! Oh! This is the seventeenth

time I hear that identical remark--you being the seventeenth tonsured

gentleman whom I sentence. Do you see this little stick? I cut a notch

in it at each reprisal. When I shall have reached twenty-five the bill

will be settled--my sister's daughter was plunged twenty-five times into

the furnace, at the order of the Catholic priests, the agents of the

Pope.

"Monk, it stands written in the Bible: 'Life for life, eye for eye,

tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burning for burning,

wound for wound, stripe for stripe.'[66] Well, now, instead of burning

you, as should be done, I purpose to make you a Cardinal."

Saying this the soldier of fortune described with the point of his

dagger a circle around his head. The monk understood the meaning of the

frightful pantomime. The Avengers of Israel threw him down and held him

fast at the foot of the altar. The Franc-Taupin passed his thumb along

the edge of his weapon, and sat down upon his haunches beside the

patient. At that moment one of the riders rushed precipitately into the

chapel, shouting:

"A good prize! A good prize! A maid of honor of Jezebel!"

The arrival of the captive girl suspended the torture of the monk who

remained pinioned at the feet of Josephin. The Franc-Taupin rose, and

cast a look upon the female captive, who was none other than Anna Bell.

The features of the hardened soldier relaxed, a tremor ran over his

frame, he hid his face in his hands and wept. It seemed to him as if he

saw in the young captive Hena, the poor martyr he so deeply mourned! The

otherwise inexorable man remained for a moment steeped in desolate

thoughts, in the midst of the profound silence of the Avengers of

Israel. The maid of honor stood cold with fright. She realized she was

in the power of the terrible One-Eyed man, the ferocity of whom spread

terror among the Catholics.

The Franc-Taupin passed the back of his hand over his burning and hollow

eye, the fierce fire of which seemed kindled into fiercer flame by the

tear that had just bathed it. Turning with severity to Anna Bell he

ordered her to step nearer:

"You are a maid of honor to the Queen?"

With a trembling voice Anna Bell replied: "Yes, monsieur, I belong to

her Majesty the Queen."

"Where do you come from?"

"From Meilleret. Tired with travel, I stopped for rest at the village.

From there I proceeded on my journey to join the Queen.--My guide lost

his way. Your riders stopped my litter.--Have pity upon me and order

that I be taken to Monsieur the Prince of Gerolstein. I think I may

rely upon his courtesy."

"At what hour did you leave Meilleret?"

"About one this morning."

"You lie! It is hardly five o'clock now--you traveled in a litter--it

takes more than eight hours to come from Meilleret to this place on

horseback and riding fast."

"Monsieur, I conjure you, have me taken to the Prince of Gerolstein--it

is the only favor I entreat of your kindness," cried Anna Bell,

trembling and stammering.

Struck by the insistence with which the maid of honor requested to be

taken to Prince Franz of Gerolstein, the Franc-Taupin contemplated her

with mistrust. Suddenly he ordered:

"Search the woman!"

Two Huguenots executed the order, and extracted from Anna Bell's pockets

a purse, a letter and the gold vial. The Franc-Taupin opened the letter,

the seal of which was broken; read it; looked puzzled over a passage in

the missive and remained for a moment thoughtful. But immediately struck

by a sudden inspiration, he darted a fierce glance at the maid of honor,

examined the gold vial in silence, and holding it up to Anna Bell, said:

"Woman, what does that vial contain?"

With a great effort, Anna Bell replied, "I--I--know not."

"Oh, you know not!" cried the Franc-Taupin, breaking out in a sardonic

guffaw. "Miserable creature. You seem to have the audacity of a

criminal."

He stepped slowly towards the young girl, seized her by the arm, and

holding the vial to her lips, cried:

"Drink it on the spot, or I stab you to death!"

Anna Bell, terror-stricken and fainting, dropped upon her knees, crying:

"Mercy! Mercy! I beg of you, mercy! Pity! Mercy!"

"Poisoner!" exclaimed the Franc-Taupin.

The maid of honor crouched still lower upon her knees, hid her face in

her hands, and sobbed aloud. The Huguenots looked at one another

stupefied. Again silence reigned.

"Brothers," said the Franc-Taupin, breaking the silence, "listen to the

letter that you have just taken from this woman's pocket:

"A courier from my son Charles has arrived from Paris, my pet,

compelling me to have an immediate conference with the Cardinal. I

can not see you before your departure. Adieu, and courage. You will

reach your Prince. I forgot one important recommendation to you.

The philter must be emptied quickly after the stopper is removed

from the vial.

"The letter is signed 'C. M.'--Catherine De Medici! Here we have it! The

Queen sends one of her strumpets to poison Franz of Gerolstein!"

Still under the shock of the cowardly assassination of Conde, and of the

recent deaths by poison of the Duke of Deux-Ponts and the Admiral's

brother, the Huguenots broke out into imprecations. The youth and beauty

of the maid of honor only rendered her criminal designs all the more

execrable in their eyes. The moment was critical. Anna Bell made a

superhuman effort--a last endeavor to escape the fate that threatened

her. She rose on her knees and with clasped hands cried:

"Mercy! Listen to me! I shall confess everything!"

"O, Hena," cried the Franc-Taupin with savage exaltation. "Poor martyr!

I shall avenge your death upon this infamous creature--beautiful like

yourself--young like yourself! Throw together outside of the chapel the

branches that our horses have bared of their leaves. The wood is

green--it will burn slowly. We'll tie the poisoner and the monk back to

back upon the pyre the instant I have ordained him a Cardinal."

In chorus the Huguenots shouted: "To the pyre with the monk and the

poisoner!"

Anna Bell's mind began to wander. Livid and shivering she crouched in a

heap upon the ground, her voice choked in her throat, already rigid with

terror, and escaped only in convulsive sobs. The Avengers of Israel

hurried to heap up the bare branches around a tall oak-tree planted

before the portico of the chapel. The Franc-Taupin stepped towards the

Cordelier, who muttered in an agonizing voice, "_Miserere mei,

Domine--miserere!_"

Again the solemnity of ordaining the monk a Cardinal was suddenly

interrupted. The sound of an approaching and numerous cavalcade reached

the Avengers of Israel. A moment later Prince Franz of Gerolstein

appeared at the head of a mounted troop.

The personage who now stepped upon the scene was the grandson of Charles

of Gerolstein, who in 1534 assisted at the council of the Calvinists in

the quarry of Montmartre, together with Christian the printer. The young

Prince was twenty-five years of age. The short visor of his helmet

exposed his features. Their regularity and symmetry were perfect; they

expressed at once benevolence and resolution. Of tall and wiry build,

the young man's heavy black cuirass, worn German fashion, and his thick

armlets, seemed not to weigh upon him. His wide hose, made of scarlet

cloth, were almost overlapped by his long boots of buff leather armed

with silver spurs. A wide belt of white taffeta--the Protestants'

rallying sign--was fastened with a knot on one side.

Immediately upon entering the chapel the Prince addressed the

Franc-Taupin:

"Comrades, I have just learned that your scouts have arrested one of the

Queen's maids of honor--"

Before the Franc-Taupin had time to answer the Prince, Anna Bell jumped

up, ran to Franz, and threw herself at his feet, crying: "For mercy's

sake, monsieur, deign to hear me!"

Franz of Gerolstein recognized the young girl at once. He reached out

his hand to her and made her rise, saying: "I remember to have met you,

mademoiselle, at the French court, last year. Be comforted. There must

be some untoward misunderstanding in regard to you."

Anna Bell in turn seized the Prince's hands and covered them with kisses

and tears. "I am innocent of the horrible crime that they charge me

with!" she cried.

"Prince," broke in the Franc-Taupin, "the woman must die! The wretch is

a poisoner; she is an emissary of Catherine De Medici; and you were

singled out for her victim. We are about to do justice to the case."

"No pity for the prostitutes of the Italian woman! None for her

messengers of death!" cried several Huguenots.

But Franz of Gerolstein interposed, saying: "My friends, I can not

believe in the crime that you charge this young girl with. I knew her at

the court of France. I often spoke with her. Whatever the deplorable

reputation of her companions, she is a happy exception among them."

"Oh! thank you, monsieur," exclaimed Anna Bell in accents of ineffable

gratitude. "Thank you, for testifying so warmly in my favor--"

"Prince, the hypocrite had her mask on when she conversed with you!"

insisted the inexorable Franc-Taupin. "Read this letter from the Queen.

You will learn from it the reason why her maid of honor threw herself

intentionally into the hands of our outposts, and immediately requested

to be taken to your tent. As to this vial," he turned to Anna Bell,

"does it contain poison, yes or no?"

"Monsieur, do not allow appearances to deceive you--if you only knew!"

cried Anna Bell, in distress.

Franz of Gerolstein cast upon the maid of honor a frigid look; then,

turning away his head, he stepped towards the door of the chapel. Anna

Bell rushed after the Prince, fell again at his feet, clasped his knees

and cried: "Monsieur, do not forsake me! In the name of your mother,

deign to listen to me! It is not death I fear--what I fear is your

contempt--I am innocent!"

The accent of truthfulness often touches the most prejudiced of hearts.

Moved, despite himself, Franz of Gerolstein stopped, and looking down

upon the maid of honor with pain and pity, said:

"I grant your prayer--I wish still to doubt the crime that you are

accused of--explain the mystery of your movements." He looked around,

and noticing the vestry door that led from one of the aisles of the

chapel, he added, "Come, mademoiselle, I shall listen to you without

witnesses in yonder private place."

With an effort Anna Bell arose, and with staggering steps she followed

Franz of Gerolstein into the vestry. Arrived there, the maid of honor

collected her thoughts for a moment, and then addressed the young

Huguenot Prince with a trembling voice in these words:

"Monsieur, before God who hears me--here is the truth: Last evening,

shortly before midnight, at the Abbey of St. Severin where the Queen

halted for rest, she summoned me to her, and after reminding me of all

that I owed to her generosity, because," and Anna Bell broke down

weeping, "I am a waif, picked up from the street--out of charity--one of

the Queen's serving-women bought me about ten years ago, as she informed

me, from a Bohemian woman who made me beg before the parvise of Notre

Dame in Paris--"

"How came you to become a maid of honor to Catherine De Medici?"

"The woman who took me in showed me to the Queen, and, to my

misfortune!--to my disgrace!--the Queen interested herself in me!"

"To your misfortune? To your disgrace?"

"Monsieur," answered Anna Bell as if the words were wrung from her

heart, "Alas! although barely beyond girlhood, two years ago, thanks to

the principles and the instructions that I received, and the examples

set to me, my education was perfect and complete, I was found worthy of

forming part of the Queen's 'Flying Squadron'!"

"I understand you! Poor girl!"

"That is not all, monsieur. The day came when I was to prove my

gratitude to the Queen. It happened during the truce in the religious

wars. The Marquis of Solange, although a Protestant, often came to

court. He was to be detached from his cause, monsieur. He had manifested

some inclination towards me. The Queen called me apart. 'The Marquis of

Solange loves you,' she said; 'he will sacrifice his faith to

you--provided you are not cruel towards him.' I yielded to the pressure

from the Queen. I had no consciousness of the indignity of my conduct

until the day when--"

Anna Bell could proceed no further; she seemed to strangle with

confusion, and was purple with shame. Suddenly frightful cries,

proceeding from the interior of the chapel, startled the oppressive

silence in the vestry. The cries were speedily smothered, but again,

ever and anon, and despite the gag that suppressed them, they escaped in

muffled roars of pain. Frightened at these ominous sounds, the maid of

honor precipitately took refuge by the Prince's side, seeming to

implore his protection and muttering amid sobs:

"Monsieur--do you hear those cries--do you hear the man's moans?"

"Oh!" answered Franz of Gerolstein, visibly depressed with grief.

"Forever accursed be they, who, through their ferocity, were the first

to provoke these acts of cruel reprisal!"

The moans that reached the vestry gradually changed into muffled and

convulsive rattles that grew fainter and fainter. Silence prevailed once

more. The expiring monk was ordained Cardinal by the Franc-Taupin.

"I arrived in time, mademoiselle, to rescue you from the vengeance of

those pitiless men," resumed the Prince. "The candor of your words would

denote the falseness of the accusations raised against you. And yet,

this letter from the Queen, this vial, would seem to furnish convincing

testimony against you."

"Last evening," Anna Bell proceeded, "notified by our governess that the

Queen wished to speak to me, I awaited her orders in a dark corridor

that separated my chamber from the Queen's apartments. At the very

moment I was about to open the door I heard your name mentioned,

monsieur. The Queen was speaking about you with Father Lefevre, a priest

of the Society of Jesus, one of the counselors of the King of Spain."

"To what purpose was my name mentioned by the Queen and the Jesuit?"

"It seems that, in their opinion, monsieur, you are a redoubtable

enemy, and the Queen promised Father Lefevre to rid herself of you. One

of her maids of honor was to be commissioned to execute the murder

through poison. The maid of honor chosen was myself. Madam Catherine

selected me for this horrible deed. Frightened at what I had overheard,

an involuntary cry of horror escaped me. Almost immediately I heard

footsteps approach the door of the Queen's apartment. Luckily I had time

to regain my own chamber without being heard or even suspected of having

overheard the Queen's words. Presently she rang for me. The Queen began

by reminding me of her acts of kindness to me, and added she decided to

fulfil the dearest and most secret wishes of my heart. 'Anna Bell,' she

said, 'you no longer love the Marquis of Solange; you have transferred

your affections to the Prince of Gerolstein, whom you saw at court last

year.' Take this vial. It contains a philter that makes one beloved. A

guide will take you to the outposts of the Huguenots; you will fall into

their hands; you will then ask to be taken to the Prince of Gerolstein.

He is a nobleman, he will take pity upon you, he will lodge you in his

tent. Love will inspire you. You will find the opportunity to pour a few

drops of this philter into Franz of Gerolstein's cup--thus you will

reach your Prince'--and these are the words which the Queen repeated to

me in her letter."

"And guessing that the philter was poison, and fearing to awaken the

Queen's suspicions, you feigned readiness to accept the mission of

death? That, I suppose, is the complement of your story?"

"Yes, monsieur. I hoped to warn you to be on guard against the dangers

that threaten you!"

Exhausted by so many emotions, and crushed with shame, the poor girl

dropped down upon one of the benches in the vestry, hid her face in her

hands, and wept convulsively.

The revelation, bearing as it did the stamp of irresistible candor,

awakened in the heart of Franz of Gerolstein a deep interest for the

ill-starred young woman.

"Mademoiselle," he said to her in a firm yet kind tone, "I believe in

your sincerity--I believe your account of your misfortunes."

"Now, monsieur, I can die."

"Dismiss such mournful thoughts--perhaps an unexpected consolation

awaits you. Owing to certain details that you mentioned concerning your

early years, I am almost certain I know your parents. You must have been

born at La Rochelle, and was not your father an armorer?"

"Yes!" cried Anna Bell. "Yes! I remember how the sight of glistening

arms delighted my eyes in my childhood."

"Did you not, at the time you were kidnapped from your family, wear any

collar or other trinket that you may have preserved?"

"I wore around my neck, and have preserved ever since, a little lead

medal. I have it here attached to this chain."

Franz of Gerolstein ran to the door of the vestry and called for

Josephin. The Franc-Taupin approached, stepping slowly, and engaged in

imparting the latest notch to the stick that hung from his cartridge

belt: "Seventeen! There are still eight wanting before we reach

twenty-five! Oh! My bill shall be paid, by my sister's death! My bill

shall be paid!"

Franz of Gerolstein inquired from the Franc-Taupin: "What was the age of

Odelin's child when she was kidnapped!"

With a look of surprise the Franc-Taupin answered: "The poor child was

eight years old. It is now ten years since the dear little girl

disappeared."

"Did she wear anything by which she might be identified?" pursued Franz.

"She wore from her neck," said the Franc-Taupin with a sigh, "a medal of

the Church of the Desert, like all other Protestant children. It was a

medal that I presented to her mother the day of the little creature's

birth."

Franz of Gerolstein held before the Franc-Taupin the medal that Anna

Bell had just given him, and said: "Do you recognize this medal?

Josephin, this young girl was kidnapped from her family ten years

ago--she carried this medal from her neck--"

"Oh!" cried the Franc-Taupin, looking at Anna Bell with renewed

confusion. "She is Odelin's daughter! That accounts for my having been

from the first struck with her resemblance to Hena."

"Do you, monsieur, know my parents?" it was now Anna Bell's turn to ask.

"Pray tell me where I can find them."

But overcome with emotion, the Franc-Taupin said: "But Oh! what a shame

for the family! What a disgrace! A maid of honor to the Queen!"

The Franc-Taupin was quickly drawn from his mixed emotions of sorrow and

joy. More important work was soon to be done. An officer entered the

vestry, bringing orders from Admiral Coligny for the vanguards and

outposts to fall back without delay toward St. Yrieix. Franz of

Gerolstein immediately conveyed the Admiral's orders to the Avengers of

Israel, who crowded behind the officer, and then turned to Anna Bell,

saying:

"Mademoiselle, come; remount your litter. We shall escort you to St.

Yrieix. I shall impart to you on the road tidings concerning your

family--of which I am a member."

"What a revelation to Odelin--and to Antonicq!" the Franc-Taupin thought

to himself, "when they learn within shortly, at St. Yrieix, that this

unfortunate creature--the disgraced and dishonored maid of honor to the

Queen is the daughter of the one and the sister of the other!"

The Avengers of Israel and the squadron of German horsemen, with Franz

of Gerolstein at their head, completed their reconnoisance about the

forest and fell back upon St. Yrieix. The chapel of St. Hubert remained

deserted and wrapped in silence. The morning breeze swung the body of

the monk as it hung limp from a branch of the oak-tree in front of the

portico of the holy place. Horrible to look at were the features of the

corpse. They preserved the impress of the Cordelier's last agonies. The

skin was ripped from the head. It had the appearance of being covered

with a red skull cap.

Abominable reprisals, without a doubt; and yet less abominable than the

crimes of which they record the expiatory vengeance.

CHAPTER IV.

GASPARD OF COLIGNY.

The burg of St. Yrieix stood in the center of the staked-in camp

occupied by the army of Admiral Coligny. An inflexible disciplinarian,

Admiral Coligny maintained rigorous order among his troops. Never was

pillage allowed; never marauding. His soldiers always paid for all that

they demanded from city folks or peasants. He went even further.

Whenever it happened that, scared at the approach of armed forces, the

peasants fled from their villages, the officers, executing the express

orders of Admiral Coligny, left in the houses the price of the

vegetables and forage with which the soldiers provisioned themselves and

their beasts in the absence of the masters of the place. Finally, as a

necessary and terrible example--thieves caught redhanded were inexorably

hanged, and the stolen objects tied to their feet. Finally there never

were seen at the Huguenot camps the swarms of women of ill fame that

ordinarily encumbered the baggage of the Catholic army, and that,

according to the ancient practice, were placed under the supervision of

the "King of the Ribalds."

The habits of the Protestants in the army of Admiral Coligny were

pious, austere and upright. This notwithstanding, the Admiral found it

impossible to impose rigid discipline upon the numerous bands that from

time to time attached themselves to his main forces, usually conducted a

guerilla warfare, and emulated the royalists in rapine and cruelty.

The Admiral, the Princes of Orange, of Nassau and of Gerolstein, the

sons of the Prince of Conde who was assassinated upon orders from the

Duke of Anjou, young Henry of Bearn, besides many other Protestant

chiefs, occupied several houses at St. Yrieix. The ancient priory served

as the Admiral's quarters. Early in the morning, as was his wont,

Admiral Coligny left his lodgings accompanied by his servants, to attend

the prayers held in the Huguenot camp and called the "Prayer of the

Guard." The officers and soldiers of the Admiral's post, together with

those of some neighboring ones, filled on these occasions the courtyard

of the priory, and standing erect, bareheaded, silent, they awaited in

meditation the hour of raising their souls to God. Old soldiers grey of

beard and seamed with scars; young recruits, barely beyond adolescence;

rich noblemen, raised in the spacious halls of castles; field laborers,

as well as artisans from the cities, who rallied to the defense of the

"Church of the Desert"--all animated with an ardent faith, would there

unite upon the level of Evangelical equality. The seigneur, battling

side by side with his vassal for the holy cause of freedom of

conscience, saw in him only a brother. Thus germinated among the

Protestants the tendencies toward fraternity that were later to cause

the distinctions of castes and races, so much prized by royalists, to

vanish. A slight murmur, betokening the affection and respect that he

inspired, greeted the Admiral's arrival. The rude fatigues of many wars

had bent his tall and one-time straight figure. His white hair and

beard, together with the pallor of his noble visage, now profoundly

changed since the death of his brother, who was treacherously poisoned,

imparted to the aspect of the supreme chieftain of the Protestant armies

a venerable and touching expression. Encased from his neck down in armor

of burnished iron, without any ornament whatever, and half concealed

under a flowing cloak of white cloth--the Huguenot color--the Admiral

was bareheaded. Beside him stood the brave Francis of Lanoue, a young

Breton nobleman. Courage, honor, kindness, were stamped upon his manly

and loyal countenance. A sort of steel arm, artistically forged by

Odelin Lebrenn, with the aid of which Monsieur Lanoue could guide his

horse, replaced the arm that the daring captain had lost in battle. When

the murmur that greeted the Admiral's arrival subsided, one of the

pastors, Feron by name, who attended the army, uttered in a benign voice

the following short prayer:

"Our trust lies in God, who made the heavens and the earth.

"Our Father and Savior, since it has pleased You, in the midst of the

dangers of war, to preserve us last night and until this day, may it

please You to cause us to employ it wholly in Your service. Oh, heavenly

Father! Our brothers rely upon our vigilance. They rely upon us, their

defenders. Deign by Your grace to help us in faithfully fulfilling our

charge, without negligence, or cowardice. Finally, may it please You, O

Lord of Hosts, to change these calamitous times into happy times where

justice and religion shall reign! Not then shall we any longer be

reduced to the necessity of defending ourselves; then will Your holy

name be glorified more and more the world over! All these things, O

Lord, our Father! O, good God! we beg of You in the name and by the

grace of our Savior Jesus Christ. We pray to You to increase our faith

which we now confess, saying: I believe in God the omnipotent Father,

and in his Son the Redeemer.

"May the blessing of God the Father, the grace and the mercy of our Lord

Jesus Christ remain and dwell forevermore among us in the communion of

the Holy Ghost.

"Amen!"[67]

"Amen!" responded Admiral Coligny devoutly and in a grave voice.

"Amen!" answered the soldiers.

The morning prayer had been said.

While the Admiral was religiously attending morning service in the

courtyard at his headquarters, Dominic, the servant of his household who

was captured shortly before by the royalists, was engaged in executing

the crime plotted by the Duke of Anjou jointly with the captain of his

guards.

Dominic stepped into the chamber of Coligny; he moved about cautiously,

with eyes and ears alert, watching from all sides whether he was either

seen or heard; he approached a table on which, standing beside several

scrolls of paper, was an earthen bowl containing a refreshing drink that

Coligny was in the habit of taking every morning, and which his faithful

equerry Nicholas Mouche always prepared for him. Mouche was at the

moment at prayers with the Admiral, together with the rest of the

household servants. Dominic purposely did not join his comrades that

morning; he figured upon their absence to carry out his nefarious deed.

The poisoner took up the earthen bowl to drop the poison in. For an

instant he hesitated. Brought up in the house of Coligny and ever

treated by his master with paternal kindness, the thoughts of the wretch

for an instant conjured up the past before him. Then cupidity stifled

pity in the assassin's breast. He took out of his pocket a scent-bag

containing some grey powder, shook the contents into the bowl, and

stirred it, in order to mix the poison well with the liquid. Dominic was

placing the bowl back from where he took it when he heard steps

approaching. Quickly and tremblingly he slid away from the table. It was

Odelin Lebrenn, bringing back the Admiral's casque, which was sent to

him to repair, it having been bent in the day before by a ball from a

large arquebus while the Admiral was on a reconnoitering expedition.

Although serving as a volunteer with his son Antonicq in the Protestant

army, Odelin exercised his trade with the help of a portable forge.

Thirty-three years had elapsed since the day when he returned to Paris

with Master Raimbaud. He was now bordering on his forty-eighth year.

His beard and hair were grizzled with grey. His features betokened

frankness and resolution. Odelin had not seen Dominic since his capture

by the Catholics. He now congratulated him heartily upon his escape from

the enemy, but remarking the wretch's pallor, he added:

"What is the matter, my dear Dominic? You look ashy pale."

"I do not know--what--you mean--" stammered Dominic, saying which the

poisoner rushed out precipitately.

The hurry of the man's departure, his pallor and flutter, awakened the

armorer's suspicion; but these thoughts were quickly crowded out of his

mind by the sudden appearance of his son Antonicq, who ran in with

flustered face and tears in his eyes, crying:

"Oh, father! Come quick! In heaven's name come to the Prince of

Gerolstein who is just back to camp with uncle Josephin, the

Franc-Taupin."

At this moment, Nicholas Mouche, the Admiral's confidential equerry

entered his master's room. Not seeing the face of either Odelin or his

son, both having their backs turned to the door, he cried out in

surprise and alarm:

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" But instantly recognizing the

armorer and his son, for whom he entertained warm esteem, he added:

"Excuse me, my dear Lebrenn, I did not recognize you at first. Excuse

me. You and your son are really members of the household. Your presence

here need not alarm me for my master's safety."

"I brought back Monsieur Coligny's casque," Odelin explained, "and my

son came after me. I do not yet know the cause of his excitement. See

how flustered his face is! What extraordinary thing has happened, my

boy?"

"My sister--Marguerite--whom we thought lost forever--has been found--"

"Great God!"

"Come, father--the Prince--and my uncle--will tell you all about

it--they will narrate to you the extraordinary affair--"

"What!" exclaimed Nicholas Mouche, looking at Odelin. "Is the poor child

who disappeared so long ago found again! Heaven be praised!"

"Oh, I can not yet believe such a happy thing possible!" said Odelin,

his heart beating between doubt and hope.

"Come, father, you will know all!"

"Adieu!" said the armorer to Nicholas, as he followed his son, no less

wrought up than the young man.

"Poor father!" mused the old equerry as he followed Odelin with his

eyes. "Provided only he is not running after some cruel disappointment!"

Approaching his master's writing table to assure himself that the

Admiral was supplied with ink, Nicholas's eyes fell upon the earthen

bowl. He noticed that it was full to the brim--untouched.

"Monsieur the Admiral has not taken a single mouthful of his chicory

water! Truth to say, in point of taking care of himself, the dear old

hero is as thoughtless as a child! But here he is! He shall not escape a

lecture;" and addressing Coligny, who now returned to his room after

prayers, the equerry said in a tone of familiar reproach that his long

years of service justified: "Well, Monsieur Admiral; what about your

chicory water! The bowl is as full as when I brought it in early this

morning--"

"That is so," answered Coligny with a smile. "The trouble lies with you.

You make the drink so frightfully bitter that I postpone all I can the

hour of gulping it down."

"That is an odd reason, Monsieur Admiral! Is not the bitterness of the

drink the very thing that gives it virtue? Monsieur, you are going to

drink it now--on the spot--and before me!"

"Come, let us compromise--I promise you that the bowl shall be empty

within the next hour. Are the horses saddled and bridled?"

"Yes, monsieur. If we ride out this morning I shall bring along Julien

the Basque and Dominic to take charge of your relay horses. The poor

fellow Dominic, despite the mishap of the day before yesterday, which

might have cost him dear, begged me this morning to choose him as one of

the footmen to accompany you to-day, if there is to be any engagement."

"Dominic is a worthy servant."

"What else should he be? Was he not brought up in your house, monsieur,

and the son of one of your oldest servants, the worthy forester of the

woods of Chatillon?"

"Oh, my dear house of Chatillon, my meadows, my woods, my vines, my

grain fields, my thrifty laborers--am I ever to see you again?" remarked

Coligny with a melancholic sigh. "Oh, the country life! The family

life!" The Admiral remained in silent meditation for a moment, then he

added:

"Leave me alone. I have some writing to do."

The equerry left the room. Monsieur Coligny stepped slowly towards the

table, drew a campstool near, and sat down upon it. With his forehead

resting on his hand he remained long lost in revery, musing to himself:

"Why should this thought have come to me to-day, more than any other

day? I know not. God inspires me. Let us listen to His warnings. At any

rate, it is well to have our accounts clear with heaven. Besides, it is

my duty to answer before God and men the accusations that are preferred

against me. It is my duty to answer the capital and defaming sentence

that has been hurled against me and mine."

Taking a scroll from the table, the Admiral read:

"As the principal author of and leader in the conspiracy and

rebellion gotten up against the King and his State, the said Sieur

of Coligny is sentenced to be hanged and strangled upon the Greve

Square, and subsequently to be exposed from the gibbet of

Montfaucon. His goods revert to and are confiscate by the King. His

children are declared forfeit of their noble rank, infamous, and

disqualified from holding office or owning any property in the

kingdom. Fifty thousand gold ecus are promised to whomsoever will

deliver the said Sieur of Coligny, dead or alive. The children of

his brother Dandelot are likewise declared infamous."

Coligny flung back upon the table the scroll containing the extract of

the royal decree, registered in the Parliament of Paris on May 27, 1569,

and raising his tearful eyes heavenward, exclaimed in accents of

profound grief:

"My poor and good brother! They killed you treacherously by poison! Your

children are orphans, with none but myself for their support--and now a

price is set upon my own life! To-day, to-morrow, in battle, or

otherwise, God may call me to Him! Oh, let me at least carry with me the

consolation that my own and my brother's orphans will remain entrusted

to worthy hands!"

Coligny remained long absorbed in meditation. He then took a sheet of

paper, a pen, and again concentrating his thoughts, proceeded to write

his testament:[68]

Of all His creatures, God has created man the most worthy.

Accordingly, it is man's duty, during his life, to do all he can to

glorify the Lord, render evidence of his faith, set a good example

to his fellows, and, to the extent of his powers, leave his

children in comfort, if it has pleased God to afford him any.

Although our days are numbered before God, nothing is more

uncertain than the hour when it will please Him to call us away. We

must keep ourselves so well prepared that we may not be taken by

surprise. For this reason I have decided to draw up the present

writing, in order that those who may remain behind me, may hear my

intentions and know my wishes.

In the first place, after invoking the name of God, I make to Him

a summary confession of my faith, imploring Him that the same may

serve me at the hour when it shall please Him to call me away,

because He knows that I make this confession with my heart and

affection, and in the full sincerity of my soul.

I believe in what is contained in the Old and the New Testament, as

being the true word of God, to which and from which nothing may be

added or taken away, as it orders us. Lastly, I seek in Jesus

Christ and through Him alone my salvation and the remission of my

sins, according as He has promised. I subscribe to the confession

of faith of the Reformed Church in this kingdom. I wish to live and

die in this faith, judging myself happy, indeed, if I must suffer

on that account.

I know I am accused of having attempted against the life of the

King, of the Queen, and of messeigneurs the King's brothers; I

protest before God that I never had the wish or the intention of

doing so. I am also accused of ambition, on account of my having

taken up arms with the Reformers; I protest that only the interest

of religion, and the necessity of defending my own life and the

lives of my family made me take up arms. Upon this head I confess

that my greatest guilt lies in not having resented the injustices

and the murders perpetrated upon my brothers. I had to be driven to

take up arms by the dangers and the plots of which I myself was the

object. But I also say it before God, I have endeavored by all

means available to pacify, fearing nothing so much as civil war,

and foreseeing that the same would carry in its wake the ruin of

this kingdom, whose preservation I have ever desired. I write this

because, ignorant of the hour when it will please God to call me

away, I do not wish to leave my children with the brand of infamy

and rebellion.

I have taken up arms, not against the King, but against those whose

tyranny compelled the Reformers to defend their lives. I knew in my

heart that they often acted against the wishes of the King,

according to several letters and instructions that prove the fact.

I know I must appear before the throne of God and there receive

judgment. May He condemn me if I lie when I say that my warmest

desire is to see the King served in all purity, obedient to his

orders, and that the kingdom of France be preserved. On these

conditions I would gladly forget all that concerns me

personally--injuries, insults, outrages, confiscation of my

estates--provided the glory of God and public tranquility are

assured. To that end I am determined to occupy myself to my last

breath. I wish this to be known, in order not to leave a wrong

impression concerning myself after my death.

I request and order that my children be always brought up to the

love and fear of God; that they continue their studies up to the

age of fifteen, without interruption. I hold those years to be

better employed in that manner than if they are sent to a court, or

placed in the suite of some seigneur. Above all do I request their

tutors never to allow them to keep bad or vicious company. We are

all too much inclined to evil, by our own nature. I request that my

children be frequently reminded of this, in order that they may

know that such is my desire, as I have often expressed it to them

myself.

I request that my children be brought up with those of my brother

Dandelot, as he himself expressed in his testament the wish that

they should be. That the ones and the others take for their example

the warm and fraternal friendship that always existed between my

brother and myself.

Loving all my children equally, I expect that each will receive as

my successors that which is accorded to them by the usages of the

country where my estates are situated (if the confiscation with

which they are attainted cease). I request that the jewelry

belonging to my deceased wife be equally divided between my two

daughters.

I desire that my eldest son take the name of Chatillon; Gaspard, my

second son, the name of Dandelot; and Charles, the third, that of

La Breteche.

I request Madam Dandelot, my sister-in-law, to keep near her my two

daughters, so long as she may remain in widowhood. Should she marry

again, I request Madam La Rochefoucauld, my niece, to take charge

of them.

Having learned that they burned down the college founded by me at

Chatillon, I desire and expect that it be re-built, because it is

a public good with the aid of which God may be honored and

glorified.

I order that my servants and pensioners be paid all that may be due

to them on the day of my decease, and do grant them, besides, a

year's wages. In recognition of my great satisfaction with Lagrele,

the preceptor of my children, for the care he has bestowed upon

them, I bequeath to him one thousand francs. To Nicholas Mouche and

his wife Joan, in reward of their good offices to me and my

deceased wife, I bequeath five hundred francs, and an annual

stipend of seventeen measures of wheat during their lives, because

they have so many children.

When it shall please God to call me away, I desire, if it be

possible, that my body be taken to my Chatillon home, to be there

interred beside my wife, without any funeral pomp or other ceremony

than that of the Reformed religion.

And in order that the above provisions be carried out, I request

Monsieur the Count of Chatillon, my brother; Monsieur La

Rochefoucauld, my nephew; and Messieurs Lanoue and Saragosse, to be

the executors of these my last wishes. Above all do I recommend to

them _the education and instruction of my children_. I consecrate

them to the service of God, entreating them to cause my children

always to deport and guide themselves by His holy spirit, and to so

behave that their actions contribute to His glory, to the public

welfare, and to the pacification of the kingdom. I pray to God to

be pleased with the benediction that I bestow upon my children, to

the end of attracting upon them the blessing of heaven.

As to myself, offering to the Lord the sacrifice of Jesus Christ in

the redemption of my sins, I pray to Him that He may receive my

soul and grant to it the blessed and eternal life that awaits the

resurrection of the body.