ians and the League. But, in spite of these various
sources of instruction, Catharine--was somewhat perplexed, now that
decisive action seemed necessary--a dethronement and a new massacre
impending, and judicious compromise difficult. So after a hurried
conversation with Mucio, who insisted on an interview with the King, she
set forth for the Louvre, the Duke lounging calmly by the aide of her,
sedan chair, on foot, receiving the homage of the populace, as men,
women, and children together, they swarmed around him as he walked,
kissing his garments, and rending the air with their shouts. For that
wolfish mob of Paris, which had once lapped the blood of ten thousand
Huguenots in a single night, and was again rabid with thirst, was most
docile and fawning to the great Balafre. It grovelled before him, it hung
upon his look, it licked his hand, and, at the lifting of his finger, or
the glance of his eye, would have sprung at the throat of King or
Queen-Mother, minister, or minion, and devoured them all before his eyes.
It was longing for the sign, for, much as Paris adored and was besotted
with Guise and the League, even more, if possible, did it hate those
godless politicians, who had grown fat on extortions from the poor, and
who had converted their substance into the daily bread of luxury.

Nevertheless the city was full of armed men, Swiss and German
mercenaries, and burgher guards, sworn to fidelity to the throne. The
place might have been swept clean, at that moment, of rebels who were not
yet armed or fortified in their positions. The Lord had delivered Guise
into Henry's hands. "Oh, the madman!"--cried Sixtus V., when he heard
that the Duke had gone to Paris, "thus to put himself into the clutches
of the King whom he had so deeply offended!" And, "Oh, the wretched
coward, the imbecile?" he added, when he heard how the King had dealt
with his great enemy.

For the monarch was in his cabinet that May morning, irresolutely
awaiting the announced visit of the Duke. By his aide stood Alphonse
Corse, attached as a mastiff to his master, and fearing not Guise nor
Leaguer, man nor devil.

"Sire, is the Duke of Guise your friend or enemy?" said Alphonse. The
King answered by an expressive shrug.

"Say the word, Sire," continued Alphonse, "and I pledge myself to bring
his head this instant, and lay it at your feet."

And he would have done it. Even at the side of Catharine's sedan chair,
and in the very teeth of the wor