Henry IV. by the people delirious with joy. "L'hanno ammazzato" was
shouted to his wife, Eleanora Galigai, the supposed sorceress. They were
the words in which Concini had communicated to the Queen the murder of
her husband seven years before. Eleanora, too, was burned after having
been beheaded. Thus the Marshal d'Ancre and wife ceased to reign in
France.

The officers of the French regiments at the Hague danced for joy on the
Vyverberg when the news arrived there. The States were relieved from an
immense embarrassment, and the Advocate was rewarded for having pursued
what was after all the only practicable policy. "Do your best," said he
to Langerac, "to accommodate differences so far as consistent with the
conservation of the King's authority. We hope the princes will submit
themselves now that the 'lapis offensionis,' according to their pretence,
is got rid of. We received a letter from them to-day sealed with the
King's arms, with the circumscription 'Periclitante Regno, Regis vita et
Regia familia."

The shooting of Concini seemed almost to convert the little king into a
hero. Everyone in the Netherlands, without distinction of party, was
delighted with the achievement. "I cannot represent to the King," wrote
du Maurier to Villeroy, "one thousandth part of the joy of all these
people who are exalting him to heaven for having delivered the earth from
this miserable burthen. I can't tell you in what execration this public
pest was held. His Majesty has not less won the hearts of this state than
if he had gained a great victory over the Spaniards. You would not
believe it, and yet it is true, that never were the name and reputation
of the late king in greater reverence than those of our reigning king at
this moment."

Truly here was glory cheaply earned. The fame of Henry the Great, after a
long career of brilliant deeds of arms, high statesmanship, and twenty
years of bountiful friendship for the States, was already equalled by
that of Louis XIII., who had tremblingly acquiesced in the summary
execution of an odious adventurer--his own possible father--and who never
had done anything else but feed his canary birds.

As for Villeroy himself, the Ambassador wrote that he could not find
portraits enough of him to furnish those who were asking for them since
his return to power.

Barneveld had been right in so often instructing Langerac to "caress the
old gentleman."

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