M. de Saint-Luc[295] and the Comte de
Sault.[296] We all six dressed and armed ourselves at the house of
Saint-Luc, and as we had armour and liveries ready for every occasion,
my party wore silver-mail, with plumes of red and white, as were our
silk stockings; while M. de Guise and his troop, on account of the
imprisonment of Madame de Verneuil, of whom he was secretly the lover,
were dressed and armed in black and gold. In this equipage we arrived
at the Louvre, myself and my friends being the first upon the
ground." [297]
Henry, with his whole Court, both male and female, was present on the
occasion, and the lists were placed immediately beneath the windows of
the Queen's apartments; but the diversion was not fated to be of long
duration, for at the first encounter the lance of M. de Guise entered
the body of his antagonist and inflicted so formidable a wound that he
was carried from the spot and laid upon the bed of the Duc de Vendome,
apparently in a dying state. After his hurt had been dressed, the Queen
sent her sedan chair to convey him to his residence.
Although Bassompierre, in the preceding column, assures his readers that
"such encounters were by no means unusual," he goes on to state that
directly he fell the King not only forbade the continuance of the
tourney, but would never permit another to take place, and that this was
the only one which had been held in France for the preceding
century.[298]
"No one can imagine," says the wounded hero in continuation, "the
multitude of visits that I received, especially from the ladies. All the
Princesses came to see me, and the Queen on three occasions sent her
maids of honour, who were brought to me by Mademoiselle de Guise, and
stayed during the whole afternoon."
These courtly diversions were abruptly terminated by the intelligence
which reached Paris of the death, on the 3rd of March, of Pope Clement
VIII.[299] The piety of this distinguished Pontiff, and the eminent
services which he had rendered to the French King, caused his loss to be
deeply felt by Henry; but when, on the 1st day of April, Alessandro de
Medicis, the cousin of the Queen, was unanimously elected as his
successor under the title of Leo XI, nothing could exceed the joy which
was manifested throughout the country. Paris was illuminated, bonfires
were lighted on the surrounding heights, and salvos of artillery rang
from the dark walls of the Bastille. This demonstration proved, however,
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