ly and light-minded in the mood of this country.'

Sidney thought so the more when on the second ensuing morning the
Admiral de Coligny was shot through both hands by an assassin generally
known to have been posted by the Duke of Guise, yet often called by the
sinister sobriquet of _Le Tueur de Roi_.

CHAPTER XI. THE KING'S TRAGEDY.

The night is come, no fears disturb
The sleep of innocence
They trust in kingly faith, and kingly oath.
They sleep, alas! they sleep
Go to the palace, wouldst thou know
How hideous night can be;
Eye is not closed in those accursed walls,
Nor heart is quiet there!
--Southey, BARTHOLOMEW'S EVE

'Young gentlemen,' said Sir Francis Walsingham, as he rose from dinner
on the Saturday, 'are you bound for the palace this evening?'

'I am, so please your Excellency,' returned Berenger.

'I would have you both to understand that you must have a care of
yourselves,' said the Ambassador. 'The Admiral's wound has justly caused
much alarm, and I hear that the Protestants are going vapouring about in
so noisy and incautious a manner, crying out for justice, that it is
but too likely that the party of the Queen-mother and the Guise will be
moved to strong measures.'

'They will never dare lay a finger upon us!' said Sidney.

'In a terror-stricken fray men are no respecters of persons,' replied
Sir Francis. 'This house is, of course, inviolable; and, whatever the
madness of the people, we have stout hearts enough here to enforce
respect thereto; but I cannot answer even for an Englishman's life
beyond its precincts; and you, Ribaumont, whom I cannot even claim as my
Queen's subject--I greatly fear to trust you beyond its bounds.'

'I cannot help it, sir. Nay, with the most grateful thanks for all your
goodness to me, I must pray you not to take either alarm or offence if I
return not this night.'

'No more, my friend,' said Walsingham, quickly; 'let me know nothing of
your purposes, but take care of yourself. I would you were safe at home
again, though the desire may seem inhospitable. The sooner the better
with whatever you have to do.'

'Is the danger so imminent?' asked Sidney.

'I know nothing, Philip. All I can tell is that, as I have read that
dogs and cattle scent an earthquake in the air, so man and women seem to
breathe a sense of danger in this city. And to me the graciousness
with which the Huguenots have