s had laid aside its mourning weeds, and a gay and brilliant
carnival succeeded its dismal days of gloom. Protestants and
Catholics, of highest name and note, from every part of Europe, who
had met in the dreadful encounters of a hundred fields of blood, now
mingled in apparent fraternity with the glittering throng, all
interchanging smiles and congratulations. The unimpassioned bridegroom
led his scornful bride to the church of Notre Dame. Before the massive
portals of this renowned edifice, and under the shadow of its
venerable towers, a magnificent platform had been reared, canopied
with the most gorgeous tapestry. Hundreds of thousands thronged the
surrounding amphitheatre, swarming at the windows, crowding the
balconies, and clustered upon the house-tops, to witness the imposing
ceremony. The gentle breeze breathing over the multitude was laden
with the perfume of flowers. Banners, and pennants, and ribbons of
every varied hue waved in the air, or hung in gay festoons from window
to window, and from roof to roof. Upon that conspicuous platform, in
the presence of all the highest nobility of France, and of the most
illustrious representatives of every court of Europe, Henry received
the hand of the haughty princess, and the nuptial oath was
administered.

Marguerite, however, even in that hour, and in the presence of all
those spectators, gave a ludicrous exhibition of her girlish petulance
and ungoverned willfulness. When, in the progress of the ceremony, she
was asked if she willingly received Henry of Bourbon for her husband,
she pouted, coquettishly tossed her proud head, and was silent. The
question was repeated. The spirit of Marguerite was now roused, and
all the powers of Europe could not tame the shrew. She fixed her eyes
defiantly upon the officiating bishop, and refusing, by look, or word,
or gesture, to express the slightest assent, remained as immovable as
a statue. Embarrassment and delay ensued. Her royal brother, Charles
IX., fully aware of his sister's indomitable resolution, coolly walked
up to the termagant at bay, and placing one hand upon her chest and
the other upon the back of her head, compelled an involuntary nod. The
bishop smiled and bowed, and acting upon the principle that small
favors were gratefully received, proceeded with the ceremony. Such
were the vows with which Henry and Marguerite were united. Such is too
often _love in the palace_.

[Illustration: THE MARRIAGE.]

The Roman