orms of satin and velvet embroidered by the hands of the
ladies of the court. They numbered twelve thousand men. Henry of
Navarre, with admirable military skill, had posted his six thousand
hardy peasants, dressed in tattered skins, to meet the onset.

And now occurred one of the most extraordinary scenes which history
has recorded. It was a source of constant grief to the devout
Protestant leaders that Henry of Navarre, notwithstanding his many
noble traits of character, was not a man of pure morality. Just before
the battle, Du Plessis, a Christian and a hero, approached the King of
Navarre and said,

"Sire, it is known to all that you have sinned against God, and
injured a respectable citizen of Rochelle by the seduction of his
daughter. We can not hope that God will bless our arms in this
approaching battle while such a sin remains unrepented of and
unrepaired."

The king dismounted from his horse, and, uncovering his head, avowed
in the presence of the whole army his sincere grief for what he had
done; he called all to witness that he thus publicly implored
forgiveness of God, and of the family he had injured, and he pledged
his word that he would do every thing in his power to repair the
wrong.

The troops were then called to prayers by the ministers. Every man in
the ranks fell upon his knees, while one of the clergy implored God to
forgive the sin of their chieftain, and to grant them protection and
victory.

The strange movement was seen from the Catholic camp. "By death,"
exclaimed Joyeuse, "the poltroons are frightened. Look! they kneel,
imploring our mercy."

"Do not deceive yourself," replied an old captain. "When the Huguenots
get into that position, they are ready for hard fighting."

The brilliant battalions of the enemy now began to deploy. Some one
spoke of the splendor of their arms. Henry smiled and replied, "We
shall have the better aim when the fight begins." Another ventured to
intimate that the ministers had rebuked him with needless severity. He
replied, "We can not be too humble before God, nor too brave before
men." Then turning to his followers, with tears in his eyes, he
addressed to them a short and noble speech. He deplored the calamities
of war, and solemnly declared that he had drawn arms only in
self-defense. "Let them," said he, "perish who are the authors of this
war. May the blood shed this day rest upon them alone."

To his two prominent generals, the Prince of Conde and