ed on the scaffold--thanks to the duchess, who, in
the suite of one of these card-bearers, had the courage to penetrate the
crowd even to the place of execution, and made herself known to Salcede,
at the risk of being pointed out. At this sight Salcede stopped his
confession, and an instant after, the executioner stopped his
repentance. Thus, gentlemen, you have nothing to fear as to our
enterprise in Flanders; this secret is buried in the tomb."

It was this last speech which had so pleased all the conspirators. Their
joy seemed to annoy Briquet; he slipped down from his place, and
returning to the court, said to the porter, "Parma and Lorraine." The
gate was opened, and he left.

History tells us what passed afterward. M. de Mayneville brought from
the Guises the plan of an insurrection which consisted of nothing less
than to murder all the principal people of the city who were known to be
in favor with the king, and then to go through the streets crying, "Vive
la Messe! death to our enemies!" In fact, to enact a second St.
Bartholomew; in which, however, all hostile Catholics were to be
confounded with the Protestants.

CHAPTER XII.

THE CHAMBER OF HIS MAJESTY HENRI III.

In a great room at the Louvre sat Henri, pale and unquiet. Since his
favorites, Schomberg, Quelus and Maugiron had been killed in a duel, St.
Megrin had been assassinated by M. de Mayenne, and the wounds left by
their deaths were still fresh and bleeding. The affection he bore his
new favorites was very different from what he had felt for the old. He
had overwhelmed D'Epernon with benefits, but he only loved him by fits
and starts, and at certain times he even hated him, and accused him of
cowardice and avarice.

D'Epernon knew how to hide his ambition, which was indeed vague in its
aspirations; but his cupidity governed him completely. When he was rich,
he was laughing and good-tempered; but when he was in want of money, he
used to shut himself up in one of his castles, where, frowning and sad,
he bemoaned his fate, until he had drawn from the weakness of the king
some new gift.

Joyeuse was very different. He loved the king, who, in turn, had for him
almost a fatherly affection. Young and impulsive, he was, perhaps,
somewhat egotistical, and cared for little but to be happy. Handsome,
brave and rich, Nature had done so much for him that Henri often
regretted that she had left so little for him to add. The king knew his
men well, f