which constitutes the strongest column
of the throne, the love and good wishes of the lieges, that your Majesty
resembles an ancient building propped up, day after, day, with piles, but
which it will be impossible long to prevent from falling to the earth."
Certainly, here were wholesome truths told in straightforward style.

The Count proceeded to remind the King of the joy which the "Spaniard,
his mortal enemy," had conceived from the desolation of his affairs,
being assured that he should, by the troubles in France, be enabled to
accomplish his own purposes without striking a blow. This, he observed,
had been the secret of the courtesy with which the writer himself had
been treated by the Duke of Alva at the surrender of Mons. Louis assured
the King, in continuation, that if he persevered in these oppressive
courses towards his subjects of the new religion, there was no hope for
him, and that his two brothers would, to no purpose, take their departure
for England, and, for Poland, leaving him with a difficult and dangerous
war upon his hands. So long as he maintained a hostile attitude towards
the Protestants in his own kingdom, his fair words would produce no
effect elsewhere. "We are beginning to be vexed," said the Count, "with
the manner of negotiation practised by France. Men do not proceed roundly
to business there, but angle with their dissimulation as with a hook."

He bluntly reminded the King of the deceit which he had practised towards
the Admiral--a sufficient reason why no reliance could in future be
placed upon his word. Signal vengeance on those concerned in the
attempted assassination of that great man had been promised, in the royal
letters to the Prince of Orange, just before St. Bartholomew. "Two days
afterwards," said Louis, "your Majesty took that vengeance, but in rather
ill fashion." It was certain that the King was surrounded by men who
desired to work his ruin, and who, for their own purposes, would cause
him to bathe still deeper than he had done before in the blood of his
subjects. This ruin his Majesty could still avert; by making peace in his
kingdom, and by ceasing to torment his poor subjects of the religion.

In conclusion, the Count, with a few simple but eloquent phrases, alluded
to the impossibility of chaining men's thoughts. The soul, being
immortal, was beyond the reach of kings. Conscience was not to be
conquered, nor the religious spirit imprisoned. This had been discovered
by