grief and indignation;
for Coligny was regarded with a deep affection, as well as
reverence, by his followers. Each, as he overtook others, eagerly
inquired the news; for as yet most of them had learned nothing
beyond vague rumours of the affair.

Philip's account of it increased their indignation. So it was no
act of a mere fanatic, but the work of the Guises, and probably of
Catharine and Anjou.

In a short time between two and three hundred gentlemen were
gathered in the courtyard and antechamber of Coligny's house. Some
walked up and down, silent and stern. Others gathered in groups,
and passionately discussed the matter. This was an attack not only
upon the Admiral but upon the Huguenots in general. It was the work
of the Guises, ever the deadliest foes of the Reformed faith--the
authors of every measure taken against them, the cause of all the
blood that had been shed in the civil wars.

One thing was certain: all must leave Paris, and prepare for a
renewal of the war. But it was equally certain they could not leave
until the Admiral was fit to be moved.

"Truly he is a saint," said one of the gentlemen, who had come down
from the room where Coligny was lying. "He suffered atrociously in
the hands of the surgeon, for he had come without his instruments,
and amputated Coligny's fingers with a dagger so blunt that it was
only on the third attempt that he succeeded. Merlin, his minister,
was by his side, with several of his most intimate friends. We were
in tears at the sight of our noble chief thus traitorously struck
down. He turned to us and said calmly:

"'My friends, why do you weep? As for me, I deem myself happy at
having thus received wounds for the sake of God.'

"Then he said that, most sincerely, he forgave the man who wounded
him, and those who had instigated him to make the attack; knowing
for certain that it was beyond their power to hurt him for, even
should they kill him, death would be a certain passage to life."

An hour later Francois arrived.

"The prince has seen the king, Philip. He is furious, and has sworn
that he will inflict the most signal punishment upon the authors
and instigators of the crime: Coligny had received the wound, but
he himself most felt the smart. The King of Navarre told me he was
sure that Charles was deeply in earnest. He feels it in a threefold
sense: first, because it is the renewal of the troubles that he had
hoped had been put an end to; in the second place