sing it to be a communication of importance,
perhaps a proposition to surrender, ordered him to be admitted
immediately to his cabinet. Two persons only were present with the
king. The monk entered, and, kneeling, drew a letter from the sleeve
of his gown, presented it to the king, and instantly drawing a large
knife from its concealment, plunged it into the entrails of his
victim. The king uttered a piercing cry, caught the knife from his
body and struck at the head of his murderer, wounding him above the
eye. The two gentlemen who were present instantly thrust their swords
through the body of the assassin, and he fell dead.

The king, groaning with anguish, was undressed and borne to his bed.
The tidings spread rapidly, and soon reached the ears of the King of
Navarre, who was a few miles distant at Meudon. He galloped to St.
Cloud, and knelt with gushing tears at the couch of the dying monarch.
Henry III. embraced him with apparently the most tender affection. In
broken accents, interrupted with groans of anguish, he said,

"If my wound proves mortal, I leave my crown to you as my legitimate
successor. If my will can have any effect, the crown will remain as
firmly upon your brow as it was upon that of Charlemagne."

He then assembled his principal officers around him, and enjoined them
to unite for the preservation of the monarchy, and to sustain the
claims of the King of Navarre as the indisputable heir to the throne
of France.

A day of great anxiety passed slowly away, and as the shades of
evening settled down over the palace, it became manifest to all that
the wound was mortal. The wounded monarch writhed upon his bed in
fearful agony. At midnight, Henry of Navarre, who was busily engaged
superintending some of the works of the siege, was sent for, as the
King of France was dying. Accompanied by a retinue of thirty
gentlemen, he proceeded at full speed to the gates of the castle where
the monarch was struggling in the grasp of the King of Terrors.

It is difficult to imagine the emotions which must have agitated the
soul of Henry of Navarre during this dark and gloomy ride. The day had
not yet dawned when he arrived at the gates of the castle. The first
tidings he received were, _The king is dead_. It was the 2d of August,
1589.

Henry of Navarre was now Henry IV., King of France. But never did
monarch ascend the throne under circumstances of greater perplexity
and peril. Never was a more distracted kingd