upy their quarter, defeated them, and with
exultant cries rushed to threaten the Louvre itself. Henry was forced
to send his mother to treat with the duke; she returned with terms
that meant a virtual abdication. Henry took horse and fled, vowing he
would come back only through a breach in the walls. But Guise was
supreme in Paris, and the pitiful monarch was soon forced to yield; he
signed the terms of his own humiliation, and went to Blois to meet
Guise and the States-General with bitterness in his heart, brooding
over his revenge. Visitors to the chateau of Blois, which has the same
thrilling interest for the traveller as the palace of Holyrood, will
recall the scene of the tragic end of Guise, the incidents of which
the official guardians are wont to recite with dramatic gesture.
Fearless and impatient of warnings, the great captain fell into the
trap prepared for him and was done to death in the king's chamber,
like a lion caught in the toils. Henry, who had heard mass and prayed
that God would be gracious to him and permit the success of his
enterprise, hastened to his mother, now aged and dying. "Madame," said
he, "I have killed the king of Paris and am become once more king of
France." The Cardinal of Lorraine, separated from the king's chamber
only by a partition, paled as he heard his nephew's struggles. "_Ne
bougez pas_," said the Marshal of Aumont putting his hand to his
sword, "the king has some accounts to settle with you too." Next
morning the old cardinal was led out and hewn in pieces. The two
bodies were burnt and the ashes scattered to the winds to prevent
their being worshipped as relics: it was Christmas Eve of 1588.

The stupid crime brought its inevitable consequences--

"Revenge and hate bring forth their kind,
Like the foul cubs their parents are."

The Commune of Paris and the Leaguers were stung to fury; the Sorbonne
declared the king deposed; the pope banned him and a popular preacher
called for another blood-letting. Henry, in a final act of shame and
despair, flung himself into the king of Navarre's arms, and on the
31st July 1589, the two Henrys encamped at St. Cloud and threatened
Paris with an army of 40,000 men. On the morrow Jacques Clement, a
young Dominican friar, after preparing himself by fasting, prayer and
holy communion, left Paris with a forged letter for the king, reached
the camp and asked for a private interview. While Henry was reading
the letter the friar snatched