!' Cry 'Long live the
King!'"

There was no response, as might be expected, and the people shouted more
hoarsely than ever for Madam League and the Balafre. The Duke's face was
full of gaiety; there was not a shadow of anxiety upon it in that
perilous and eventful moment. He saw that the day was his own.

For now, the people, ripe, ready; mustered, armed, barricaded; awaited
but a signal to assault the King's mercenaries, before rushing to the
palace: On every house-top missiles were provided to hurl upon their
heads. There seemed no escape for Henry or his Germans from impending
doom, when Guise, thoroughly triumphant, vouchsafed them their lives.

"You must give me these soldiers as a present, my friends," said he to
the populace.

And so the armed Swiss, French, and German troopers and infantry,
submitted to be led out of Paris, following with docility the
aide-de-camp of Guise, Captain St. Paul, who walked quietly before them,
with his sword in its scabbard, and directing their movements with a
cane. Sixty of them were slain by the mob, who could not, even at the
command of their beloved chieftain, quite forego their expected banquet.
But this was all the blood shed on the memorable day of Barricades, when
another Bartholomew massacre had been, expected.

Meantime; while Guise was making his promenade through the city,
exchanging embraces with the rabble; and listening to the coarse
congratulations and obscene jests of the porters and fishwomen, the poor
King sat crying all day long in the Louvre. The Queen-Mother was with
him, reproaching him bitterly with his irresolution and want of
confidences in her, and scolding him for his tears. But the unlucky Henry
only wept the more as he cowered in a corner.

"These are idle tears," said Catherine. "This is no time for crying. And
for myself, though women weep so easily; I feel my heart too deeply wrung
for tears. If they came to my eyes they would be tears of blood."

Next day the last Valois walked-out, of the Louvre; as if for a promenade
in, the Tuileries, and proceeded straightway to the stalls, where his
horse stood saddled. Du Halde, his equerry, buckled his master's spurs on
upside down. "No; matter;" said Henry; "I am not riding to see my
mistress. I have a longer journey before me."

And so, followed by a rabble rout of courtiers, without boots or cloaks;
and mounted on, sorry hacks--the King-of France rode forth from his
capital post-haste, and turnin