p.

"A fine example," exclaims his historian, "of truly religious
sentiments and magnanimous proselytism very natural to the Duke of
Guise, the most moderate and humane of the chiefs of the Catholic
army, and whose brilliant generosity had been but temporarily obscured
by the occurrence at Vassy."

The war between the Catholics and Protestants was now raging with
implacable fury, and Guise, victorious in many battles, had acquired
from the Catholic party the name of "Savior of his Country." The duke
was now upon the very loftiest summits of power which a subject can
attain. In great exaltation of spirits, he one morning left the army
over which he was commander-in-chief to visit the duchess, who had
come to meet him at the neighboring castle of Corney. The duke very
imprudently took with him merely one general officer and a page. It
was a beautiful morning in February. As he crossed, in a boat, the
mirrored surface of the Loiret, the vegetation of returning spring and
the songs of the rejoicing birds strikingly contrasted with the blood,
desolation, and misery with which the hateful spirit of war was
desolating France. The duke was silent, apparently lost in painful
reveries. His companions disturbed not his thoughts. Having crossed
the stream, he was slowly walking his horse, with the reins hanging
listlessly upon his mane, when a pistol was discharged at him from
behind a hedge, at a distance of but six or seven paces. Two bullets
pierced his side. On feeling himself wounded, he calmly said,

"They have long had this shot in reserve for me. I deserve it for my
want of precaution."

[Illustration: THE ASSASSINATION OF FRANCIS, DUKE OF GUISE.]

He immediately fell upon his horse's neck, and was caught in the arms
of his friends. They conveyed him to the castle, where the duchess
received him with cries of anguish. He embraced her tenderly,
minutely described the circumstances of his assassination, and
expressed himself grieved in view of the stain which such a crime
would inflict upon the honor of France. He exhorted his wife to bow in
submission to the will of Heaven, and kissing his son Henry, the Duke
of Joinville, who was weeping by his side, gently said to him,

"God grant thee grace, my son, to be a good man."

Thus died Francis, the second Duke of Guise, on the twenty-fourth of
February, 1563. His murderer was a young Protestant noble, Jean
Poltrot, twenty-four years of age. Poltrot, from being an ardent