verning these debauched gallants, and these bold women who live by
blood and tears. My brother D'Alencon is a traitor, and would deceive
every one. Leave him in the prison in which I have placed him. My mother
will try to kill you, therefore banish her. My brother D'Anjou in three
or four months, perhaps in a year, will leave Varsovia and will come to
dispute the throne with you. Answer him by a bull from the pope. I have
already arranged that matter through my ambassador, the Duc de Nevers,
and you will receive the document before long."

"Oh, my King!"

"You have but one thing to fear, Henry,--civil war; but by remaining
converted you will avoid this, for the Huguenots are strong only when
you put yourself at their head, and Monsieur de Conde is nothing when
opposed to you. France is a country of plains, Henry, and consequently a
Catholic country. The King of France ought to be the king of the
Catholics and not the king of the Huguenots, for the King of France
ought to be the king of the majority. It is said I feel remorse for the
massacre of Saint Bartholomew; doubts, yes; remorse, no. It is said I
am bleeding the blood of those Huguenots from every pore. I know what is
flowing from me. It is arsenic and not blood."

"What do you mean, sire?"

"Nothing. If my death must be avenged, Henriot, it must be avenged by
God alone. Let us speak now of the future. I leave you a faithful
parliament and a trusty army. Lean on them and they will protect you
against your only enemies--my mother and the Duc d'Alencon."

Just then the sound of arms and military commands were heard in the
vestibule.

"I am dead!" murmured Henry.

"You fear? You hesitate?" said Charles, anxiously.

"I! sire," replied Henry; "no, I do not fear, nor do I hesitate. I
accept."

Charles pressed Henry's hand. At that moment the nurse approached with a
drink she had been preparing in the adjoining room, not knowing that the
fate of France was being decided three feet from her.

"Call my mother, nurse, and have Monsieur d'Alencon also summoned."

CHAPTER LXV.

THE KING IS DEAD! LONG LIVE THE KING!

A few moments later Catharine and the Duc d'Alencon, pale with fright
and trembling with rage, entered Charles's room. As Henry had
conjectured, Catharine had overheard everything and in a few words had
told all to Francois.

Henry was standing at the head of Charles's bed.

The King spoke his wishes:

"Madame," said he to his mother, "