positive
evidence.

And so the coronation was at last performed with proper pomp and
magnificence at St. Denis on Thursday, the 13th May. It had been
concerted that the festivities should last four days and conclude on the
Sunday with the Queen's public entry into Paris. On the Monday the
King was to set out to take command of his armies, which were already
marching upon the frontiers.

Thus Henry proposed, but the Queen--convinced by his own admission of
the real aim and object of the war, and driven by outraged pride to hate
the man who offered her this crowning insult, and determined that at
all costs it must be thwarted--had lent an ear to Concini's purpose to
avenge her, and was ready to repay infidelity with infidelity. Concini
and his fellow-conspirators had gone to work so confidently that a week
before the coronation a courier had appeared in Liege, announcing
that he was going with news of Henry's assassination to the Princes of
Germany, whilst at the same time accounts of the King's death were being
published in France and Italy.

Meanwhile, whatever inward misgivings Henry may have entertained,
outwardly at least he appeared serene and good-humoured at his wife's
coronation, gaily greeting her at the end of the ceremony by the title
of "Madam Regent."

The little incident may have touched her, arousing her conscience. For
that night she disturbed his slumbers by sudden screams, and when he
sprang up in solicitous alarm she falteringly told him of a dream
in which she had seen him slain, and fell to imploring him with a
tenderness such as had been utterly foreign to her of late to take great
care of himself in the days to come. In the morning she renewed those
entreaties, beseeching him not to leave the Louvre that day, urging that
she had a premonition it would be fatal to him.

He laughed for answer. "You have heard of the predictions of La Brosse,"
said he. "Bah! You should not attach credit to such nonsense."

Anon came the Duke of Vendome, his natural son by the Marquise de
Verneuil, with a like warning and a like entreaty, only to receive a
like answer.

Being dull and indisposed as a consequence of last night's broken rest,
Henry lay down after dinner. But finding sleep denied him, he rose,
pensive and gloomy, and wandered aimlessly down, and out into the
courtyard. There an exempt of the guard, of whom he casually asked the
time, observing the King's pallor and listlessness, took the liberty