Louvre, irritable and
wretched, and yet incapable of any continued efficient exertion. Many
of the zealous Leaguers, indignant at the pusillanimity he displayed,
urged the Duke of Guise to dethrone Henry III. by violence, and openly
to declare himself King of France. They assured him that the nation
would sustain him by their arms. But the duke was not prepared to
enter upon so bold a measure, as he hoped that the death of the king
would soon present to him a far more favorable opportunity for the
assumption of the throne. Henry III. was in constant fear that the
duke, whose popularity in France was almost boundless, might supplant
him, and he therefore forbade him to approach the metropolis.

Notwithstanding this prohibition, the haughty duke, accompanied by a
small party of his intrepid followers, as if to pay court to his
sovereign, boldly entered the city. The populace of the capital, ever
ripe for excitement and insurrection, greeted him with boundless
enthusiasm. Thousands thronged the broad streets through which he
passed with a small but brilliant retinue. Ladies crowded the windows,
waving scarfs, cheering him with smiles, and showering flowers at his
feet. The cry resounded along the streets, penetrating even the
apartments of the Louvre, and falling appallingly upon the ear of the
king:

"Welcome--welcome, great duke. Now you are come, we are safe."

Henry III. was amazed and terrified by this insolence of his defiant
subject. In bewilderment, he asked those about him what he should do.

"Give me the word," said a colonel of his guard, "and I will plunge my
sword through his body."

"Smite the shepherd," added one of the king's spiritual counselors,
"and the sheep will disperse."

But Henry feared to exasperate the populace of Paris by the
assassination of a noble so powerful and so popular. In the midst of
this consultation, the Duke of Guise, accompanied by the queen-mother
Catharine, whom he had first called upon, entered the Louvre, and,
passing through the numerous body-guard of the king, whom he saluted
with much affability, presented himself before the feeble monarch. The
king looked sternly upon him, and, without any word of greeting,
exclaimed angrily,

"Did I not forbid you to enter Paris?"

"Sire," the duke replied, firmly, but with affected humility, "I came
to demand justice, and to reply to the accusations of my enemies."

The interview was short and unrelenting. The king, exasperated