own hands, or Baligui, the king of Cambrai, who read Machiavel
in order to copy the Valentinois, and whose wife went to war on
horseback, wearing a helmet and a cuirass.

One of the forgotten men of the period, or at least one of those whom
most historians mention only slightly, is the Duke of Mercoeur, the
intrepid enemy of Henri IV, who defied him longer than Mayenne, the
Ligue, and Philip II. Finally he was disarmed, that is, won over and
appeased (by terms that were such that twenty-three articles of the
treaty were not disclosed); then, not knowing what to do, he enlisted in
the Hungarian army and fought the Turks. One day, with five thousand
men, he attacked a whole army, and, beaten again, returned to France and
died of the fever in Nuremberg, at the age of forty-four.

Saint-Malo put me in mind of him. He always tried to get it, but he
never could succeed in making it his subject or his ally. They wished to
fight on their own account, and to do business through their own
resources, and although they were really _ligueurs_, they spurned the
duke as well as the Bearnais.

When De Fontaines, the governor of the city, informed them of the death
of Henri III, they refused to recognize the King of Navarre. They armed
themselves and erected barricades; De Fontaines intrenched himself in
the castle and everybody kept upon the defensive. Little by little, the
people encroached upon him; first, they requested him to declare that he
was willing to maintain their franchises. De Fontaines complied in the
hope of gaining time. The following year (1589), they chose four
generals who were independent of the governor. A year later, they
obtained permission to stretch chains. De Fontaines acceded to
everything. The king was at Laval and he was waiting for him. The time
was close at hand when he would be able to take revenge for all the
humiliations he had suffered, and all the concessions he had been forced
to make. But he precipitated matters and was discovered. When the people
of Saint-Malo reminded him of his promises, he replied that if the king
presented himself, he (De Fontaines) would let him enter the city. When
they learned this, they decided to act.

The castle had four towers. It was the highest one, La Generale, the one
on which De Fontaines relied the most, which they climbed. These bold
attempts were not infrequent, as proved by the ascension of the cliffs
of Fecamp by Bois-Rose, and the attack of the Chateau de