them both, and that
the only place for a prince of the blood was the court of his sovereign.

The end of it all was that the reckless and romantic Henry took to
night-prowling about the grounds of Conde's chateau. In the disguise of
a peasant you see his Majesty of France and Navarre, whose will was
law in Europe, shivering behind damp hedges, ankle-deep in wet grass,
spending long hours in love-lore, ecstatic contemplation of her lighted
window, and all--so far as we can gather--for no other result than the
aggravation of certain rheumatic troubles which should have reminded him
that he was no longer of an age to pursue these amorous pernoctations.

But where his stiffening joints failed, the Queen succeeded. Henry had
been spied upon, of course, as he always was when he strayed from the
path of matrimonial rectitude. The Concinis saw to that. And when they
judged the season ripe, they put her Majesty in possession of the facts.
So inflamed was she by this fresh breach of trust that war was declared
anew between the royal couple, and the best that Sully's wit and labours
could now accomplish was a sort of armed truce.

And then at last in the following November the Prince de Conde took
the desperate resolve of quitting France with his wife, without
troubling--as was his duty--to obtain the King's consent. On the last
night of that month, as Henry was at cards in the Louvre, the Chevalier
du Guet brought him the news of the prince's flight.

"I never in my life," says Bassompierre, who was present, "saw a man so
distracted or in so violent a passion."

He flung down his cards, and rose, sending his chair crashing over
behind him. "I am undone!" was his cry. "Undone! This madman has carried
off his wife--perhaps to kill her." White and shaking, he turned to
Bassompierre. "Take care of my money," he bade him, "and go on with the
game."

He lurched out of the room, and dispatched a messenger to the Arsenal to
fetch M. de Sully. Sully obeyed the summons and came at once, but in an
extremely bad temper, for it was late at night, and he was overburdened
with work.

He found the King in the Queen's chamber, walking backward and forward,
his head sunk upon his breast, his hands clenched behind him. The Queen,
a squarely-built, square-faced woman, sat apart, attended by a few of
her ladies and one or two gentlemen of her train. Her countenance was
set and inscrutable, and her brooding eyes were fixed upon the King.

"Ha