er him or me. We
both shouted out, being equally frightened. At last, by God's mercy,
Captain de Nancay of the guards came in, and, seeing me in this condition,
could not help laughing, although commiserating me. Severely reprimanding
the soldiers for their indiscretion, he turned them out of the room, and
granted me the life of the poor man who still clung to me. I made him
lie down and had his wounds dressed in my closet until he was quite
cured. While changing my night-dress, which was all covered with blood,
the captain told me what had happened, and assured me that my husband
was with the King and quite unharmed. He then conducted me to the room
of my sister of Lorraine, which I reached more dead than alive. As I
entered the anteroom, the doors of which were open, a gentleman named
Bourse, running from the soldiers who pursued him, was pierced by a
halberd three paces from me. I fell almost fainting into Captain de
Nancay's arms, imagining the same thrust had pierced us both. Being
somewhat recovered, I entered the little room where my sister slept.
While there De Moissans, my husband's first gentleman, and Armagnac, his
first _valet-de-chambre_, came and begged me to save their lives. I
went and threw myself at the feet of the King and the Queen--my
mother--to ask the favor, which they at last granted me."

When Captain de Nancay arrived so opportunely, he was leaving the
King's chamber, whither he had conducted Henry of Navarre and the
Prince of Conde. The tumult and excitement had worked Charles up to
such a pitch of fury that the lives of the princes were hardly safe.
But they were gentlemen, and their first words were to reproach the
King for his breach of faith. Charles bade them be silent--"_Messe ou
mort_"--("Apostatize or die"). Henry demanded time to consider; while
the Prince boldly declared that he would not change his religion:
"With God's help it is my intention to remain firm in my profession."
Charles, exasperated still more by this opposition to his will, angrily
walked up and down the room, and swore that if they did not change in
three days he would have their heads. They were then dismissed, but
kept close prisoners within the palace.

The houses in which the Huguenots lodged, having been registered, were
easily known. The soldiers burst into them, killing all they found,
without regard to age or sex, and if any escaped to the roof they were
shot down like pigeons. Daylight served to facilitate