sman you made
a most curious shot."

On Marguerite coming up to congratulate the king and thank her husband,
Charles added, "Margot, you may well thank him. But for him Henry III.
would be King of France."

"Alas, madame," returned Henry, "M. D'Anjou, who is always my enemy,
will now hate me more than ever; but everyone has to do what he can."

Had Charles IX. been killed, the Duke d'Anjou would have been King of
France, and D'Alencon most probably King of Poland. Henry of Navarre
would have gained nothing by this change of affairs.

Instead of Charles IX. who tolerated him, he would have had the Duke
d'Anjou on the throne, who, being absolutely at one with his mother,
Catherine, had sworn his death, and would have kept his oath.

These ideas were in his brain when the wild boar rushed on Charles, and
like lightning he saw that his own existence was bound up with the life
of Charles IX. But the king knew nothing of the spring and motive of the
devotion which had saved his life, and on the following day he showed
his gratitude to Henry by carrying him off from his apartments, and out
of the Louvre. Catherine, in her fear lest Henry of Navarre should be
some day King of France, had arranged the assassination of her son-in-
law; and Charles, getting wind of this, warned him that the air of the
Louvre was not good for him that night, and kept him in his company.
Instead of Henry, it was one of his followers who was killed.

_III.--The Poisoned Book_

Once more Catherine resolved to destroy Henry. The Huguenots had plotted
with D'Alencon that he should be King of Navarre, since Henry not only
abjured Protestantism but remained in Paris, being kept there indeed by
the will of Charles IX.

Catherine, aware of D'Alencon's scheme, assured her son that Henry was
suffering from an incurable disease, and must be taken away from Paris
when D'Alencon started for Navarre.

"Are you sure that Henry will die?" asked D'Alencon.

"The physician who gave me a certain book assured me of it."

"And where is this book? What is it?"

Catherine brought the book from her cabinet.

"Here it is. It is a treatise on the art of rearing and training falcons
by an Italian. Give it to Henry, who is going hawking with the king
to-day, and will not fail to read it."

"I dare not!" said D'Alencon, shuddering.

"Nonsense!" replied Catherine. "It is a book like any other, only the
leaves have a way of sticking together. Don't attempt t