nd of the
thoroughfare in order to rejoin it at the other extremity of the street.
Two attendants only remained at their station, one of whom was employed
in hastening the movements of the embarrassed waggoners, while the other
was engaged in arranging some portion of his dress which had become
displaced. At this moment a man advanced towards the King's equipage,
wrapped in a wide mantle, and carefully picked his way between the
trading-booths and the carriage, which he had no sooner reached than,
placing one of his feet on a spoke of the wheel, and the other on a
doorstep, he plunged a knife into the side of the King, who was at that
moment engaged in reading a letter.

As he felt the blow Henry exclaimed, "I am stabbed!" While he uttered
the words, he flung up his arms, an action by which the assassin
profited to take a surer and more fatal aim; and before the
horror-stricken companions of the unfortunate monarch could make a
movement to prevent it, a second thrust pierced the lobe of his heart.
The blood gushed in torrents from his mouth, and from the wound itself,
when again the remorseless knife descended, but only to become entangled
in the sleeve of the Duc d'Epernon;[19] while with one thick and choking
sob Henri IV fell back a corpse.

No one had seen by what hand the King had fallen; and had the regicide
flung away his weapon, he might have stood unquestioned among the crowd
which instantly collected upon seeing the six nobles who had accompanied
the sovereign spring to the ground, with loud exclamations of dismay;
but Ravaillac[20] stood firm, with his reeking and two-edged knife still
in his hand, and avowed his crime with a boldness which in a better
cause would have savoured of heroism.[21]

Meanwhile one of the royal party, perceiving that Henry remained
perfectly motionless, while the carriage was inundated with his blood,
incautiously exclaimed, "The King is dead!" upon which a loud wail arose
from the assembled spectators; and the agitation of the crowd became so
excessive that the Duc d'Epernon called loudly for a draught of wine,
asserting that his Majesty was faint from a hurt, and required
refreshment. A number of the inhabitants of the adjacent houses
thereupon hastened to procure the desired beverage; while the companions
of the monarch, profiting by the movement, let fall the leathern
curtains of the coach, and informed the populace that they must
immediately convey his Majesty to the Louvre