st, if there is anything there;
provided you know that there is something there, don't be afraid; take it
and send it me at once. As for the _reitres,_ they are more afraid of us
than we of them; don't be frightened about them on my account; the
greatest danger I shall run will be that a glass of wine may break in my
hand." He set out in pursuit of the Germans, came up with them on the
10th of October, 1575, at Port-a-Binson, on the Marne, and ordered them
to be attacked by his brother the Duke of Mayenne, whom he supported
vigorously. They were broken and routed. The hunt, according to the
expression at the time, lasted all the rest of the day and during the
night. "A world of dead covers the field of battle," wrote Guise. He
had himself been wounded: he went in obstinate pursuit of a mounted foe
whom he had twice touched with his sword, and who, in return, had fired
two pistol-shots, of which one took effect in the leg, and the other
carried away part of his cheek and his left ear. Thence came his name of
Henry the Scarred (_le Balafre_), which has clung to him in history.

[Illustration: Henry le Balafre----400]

Scarcely four years had rolled away since the St. Bartholomew. In vain
had been the massacre of ten thousand Protestants, according to the
lowest, and of one hundred thousand, according to the highest estimates,
besides nearly all the renowned chiefs of the party. Charles IX.'s
earnest prayer, "That none remain to reproach me!" was so far from
accomplishment that the war between Catholicism and Protestantism
recommenced in almost every part of France with redoubled passion, with a
new importance of character, and with symptoms of much longer duration
than at its first outbreak. Both parties had found leaders made, both
from their position and their capacity, to command them. Admiral Coligny
was succeeded by the King of Navarre, who was destined to become Henry
IV.; and Duke Francis of Guise by his son Henry, if not as able, at any
rate as brave a soldier, and a more determined Catholic than he. Amongst
the Protestants, Sully and Da Plessis-Mornay were assuming shape and
importance by the side of the King of Navarre. Catherine de' Medici
placed at her son's service her Italian adroitness, her maternal
devotion, and an energy rare for a woman between sixty and seventy years
of age, for forty-three years a queen, and worn out by intrigue, and
business, and pleasure. Finally, to the question of rel