housand crowns for her dog. She declined the offer,
saying that she should keep it to eat herself as her last resource.

The compassion of Henry triumphed again and again over his military
firmness. He allowed the women and children to leave the city, then
the ecclesiastics, then the starving poor, then the starving rich.
Each of these acts of generosity added to the strength of his foes.
The famished Leaguers were now in a condition to make but a feeble
resistance. Henry was urged to take the city by storm. He could easily
do this, but fearful slaughter would be the inevitable result. For
this reason Henry refused, saying,

"I am their father and their king. I can not hear the recital of their
woes without the deepest sympathy. I would gladly relieve them. I can
not prevent those who are possessed with the fury of the League from
perishing, but to those who seek my clemency I must open my arms."

Early in August, more than thirty thousand within the walls of the
city had perished by famine. Mayenne now marched to the relief of
Paris. Henry, unwisely, military critics say, raised the siege and
advanced to meet him, hoping to compel him to a decisive battle.
Mayenne skillfully avoided a battle, and still more skillfully threw
abundant supplies into the city.

And now loud murmurs began to arise in the camp of Henry. Many of the
most influential of the Catholics who adhered to his cause,
disheartened by this result and by the indications of an endless war,
declared that it was in vain to hope that any Protestant could be
accepted as King of France. The soldiers could not conceal their
discouragement, and the cause of the king was involved anew in gloom.

Still Henry firmly kept the field, and a long series of conflicts
ensued between detachments of the Royalist army and portions of the
Spanish troops under the command of the Duke of Mayenne and the Duke
of Parma. The energy of the king was roused to the utmost. Victory
accompanied his marches, and his foes were driven before him.

The winter of 1591 had now arrived, and still unhappy France was one
wide and wasted battle-field. Confusion, anarchy, and misery every
where reigned. Every village had its hostile partisans. Catholic
cities were besieged by Protestants, and Protestant towns by
Catholics. In the midst of these terrible scenes, Henry had caught a
glimpse, at the chateau of Coeuvres, of the beautiful face of
Gabrielle d'Estrees. Ignobly yielding to a guilty