mbitious soul. He had an eye on the
throne itself. And when he and the Duke Berri, at the instigation of
the archbishop, were compelled to resign the reins to the young King
Charles VI., they carried with them to their own castles all that Anjou
had left. Of course the archbishop was mysteriously murdered, and then
the boy king was married to Isabella of Bavaria, said to be the most
beautiful and the wickedest woman in Europe.

Charles had always been a frail, delicate boy. As he was riding one
evening, a strange, wild-looking being sprang out of the darkness and
seized the bridle of his horse, crying, "Fly, fly! you are betrayed."
The astonished youth after the shock, became melancholy; then was
suddenly seized with a fit of frenzy, in which he killed four of his
pages. A mad king was on the throne of France, the worst woman in
Europe regent, and three uncles waiting like vultures around a dying
man, ready to seize anything from a golden candlestick to a throne!

In the chaos of misrule and villainy into which France was falling, the
determining factor was the deadly feud which existed between the house
of Burgundy and that of Orleans. Upon the death of the first Duke of
Burgundy, his son John seized the regency for himself, snatching it
from the Duke of Orleans, the king's brother. At this point started
the feud which was to tear France asunder from end to end. While the
Orleanists were gathering their adherents to drive him out, John was
intrenching himself in Paris. Like many another villain, this Duke of
Burgundy posed as the friend of the people. He could doff his cap and
speak smilingly to starving men. He knew how to work upon their
passions, and to please by torturing and executing those they believed
had wronged them. He told them how he pitied them for the extortions
of the Duke of Orleans and Queen Isabella, kindly giving them pikes to
defend themselves, and iron chains to barricade their streets, if they
should be needed. Then, extending his hand to his enemy of Orleans,
brother of the king, they were reconciled: the past was to be buried.

Then it is a pleasant picture we behold of the period: the two friends
partaking together of communion, and dining, and then embracing at
parting with effusive words and promises to meet at a dance on the
morrow, the unsuspecting Duke of Orleans going out into the dark, where
hired assassins were waiting to hack him in pieces. Then a court of
justice tryi