old lace fringed her dainty handkerchief and gloves.

"A magnificent creature to look at!" grunted the man next to me, "but I
would prefer my wife to be a trifle more womanly."

At length they had all passed into the pavilion, and when the ceremony
was concluded Henry led his bride into the cathedral, afterwards joining
Coligny, Conde, and a few other Huguenot gentlemen, who walked up and
down the close, conversing earnestly together.

Leaving the Admiral at the Louvre with a small escort, we returned to
the _Hotel Coligny_, discussing the great event of the day. The citizens
were slowly dispersing, and as we passed some of them muttered violent
threats against the Huguenots; others cheered for Henry of Guise, a few
raised a cheer for Monseigneur, but I did not hear a word of welcome for
the king, or for Henry of Navarre, or for our own noble leader--the most
chivalrous of them all.

[Illustration: "Some of them as we passed muttered violent threats."]

"Charles hasn't increased his popularity by this marriage!" I remarked.

"No," said one of my comrades, "he has lost ground among the Parisians.
It will frighten him; he will be more afraid of Guise than ever. How the
fools roared for the duke! Perhaps they would like him for king! They
would find they had their master, for all his smooth speech and courtly
manners."

"The people's coldness may do good in one way," remarked Felix. "Charles
may rush into a war with Spain, thinking that a brilliant victory or
two would win back his popularity."

"The war with Spain will never come about," growled a grizzled veteran,
who had fought with Coligny on his earliest battle-field. "Guise, the
Pope, Monseigneur, and the Queen-Mother are all against it, and Charles
is just a lump of clay in their hands: they can mould him as they
please."

"Well," exclaimed Felix, as we entered the courtyard, "in my opinion
it's either a Spanish war, or a civil war, and Charles must take his
choice."

CHAPTER XXIV

A Mysterious Warning

It was the evening of August 20. The Louvre was brilliantly illuminated;
the gardens and the various apartments were crowded with the beauty and
nobility of France. Catholics and Huguenots mingled together on the
friendliest terms; everything pointed to peace and goodwill. Henry of
Navarre and his handsome queen were there, and so were Monseigneur and
Henry of Guise.

One could hardly think of danger in the midst of so much mirth and
gaiety,