re queen, or
covering himself, as repeatedly urged, in her presence,--a piece of
punctilio greatly admired by the French, as altogether worthy of the
noble Castilian breeding.[275]

[Sidenote: DEATH OF HENRY THE SECOND.]

On the twenty-fourth of June, the marriage of the young princess was
celebrated in the church of St. Mary. King Henry gave his daughter away.
The duke of Alva acted as his sovereign's proxy. At the conclusion of
the ceremony, the prince of Eboli placed on the finger of the princess,
as a memento from her lord, a diamond ring of inestimable value; and the
beautiful Elizabeth, the destined bride of Don Carlos, became the bride
of the king his father. It was an ominous union, destined, in its
mysterious consequences, to supply a richer theme for the pages of
romance than for those of history.

The wedding was followed by a succession of brilliant entertainments,
the chief of which was the tournament,--the most splendid pageant of
that spectacle-loving age. Henry was, at that time, busily occupied with
the work of exterminating the Protestant heresy, which, as already
noticed, had begun to gather formidable head in the capital of his
dominions.[276] On the evening of the fifteenth of June, he attended a
session of the parliament, and arrested some of its principal members
for the boldness of their speech in his presence. He ordered them into
confinement, deferring their sentence till the termination of the
engrossing business of the tourney.

The king delighted in these martial exercises, in which he could display
his showy person and matchless horsemanship in the presence of the
assembled beauty and fashion of his court.[277] He fully maintained his
reputation on this occasion, carrying off one prize after another, and
bearing down all who encountered his lance. Towards evening, when the
games had drawn to a close, he observed the young count of Montgomery, a
Scotch noble, the captain of his guard, leaning on his lance, as yet
unbroken. The king challenged the cavalier to run a course with him for
his lady's sake. In vain the queen, with a melancholy boding of some
disaster, besought her lord to remain content with the laurels he had
already won. Henry obstinately urged his fate, and compelled the count,
though extremely loth, to take the saddle. The champions met with a
furious shock in the middle of the lists. Montgomery was a rude jouster.
He directed his lance with such force against the helmet of