ll the main corridor in which they expected Henry to appear, the
latter, guided by Rene, passed along the secret passage and reached the
postern, sprang on the horse which was waiting for him, and galloped to
the place where he knew he would find De Mouy.

Hearing the sound of the horse's hoofs, the galloping of which fell on
the hard pavement, some sentinels turned and cried:

"He flees! He flees!"

"Who?" cried the queen mother, stepping to a window.

"The King of Navarre!" cried the sentinels.

"Fire on him! Fire!" cried Catharine.

The sentinels levelled their muskets, but Henry was already too far
away.

"He flees!" cried the queen mother; "then he is vanquished!"

"He flees!" murmured the Duc d'Alencon; "then I am king!"

At that instant, while Francois and his mother were still before the
window, the drawbridge thundered under horses' hoofs and preceded by a
clanking of arms and great noise a young man galloped up, his hat in his
hand, shouting as he entered the court: "France!" He was followed by
four gentlemen, covered like himself with perspiration, dust, and foam.

"My son!" exclaimed Catharine, extending both arms out of the window.

"Mother!" replied the young man, springing from his steed.

"My brother D'Anjou!" cried Francois, stepping back in amazement.

"Am I too late?" asked Henry d'Anjou.

"No, just in time, and God must have guided you, for you could not have
arrived at a better moment. Look and listen!"

Monsieur de Nancey, captain of the guards, had come out upon the balcony
from the chamber of the King.

All eyes were turned towards him.

Breaking a wand in two, with arms extended, he took a piece in either
hand and cried three times:

"King Charles IX. is dead! King Charles IX. is dead! King Charles IX. is
dead!"

Then he dropped the pieces of the wand.

"Long live King Henry III.!" shouted Catharine, making the sign of the
cross. "Long live King Henry III.!"

All took up the cry except Duc Francois.

"Ah, she has betrayed me!" murmured he, digging his nails into his
breast.

"I have won," cried Catharine, "and that hateful Bearnais will not
reign!"

CHAPTER LXVI.

EPILOGUE.

One year had elapsed since the death of Charles IX. and the accession of
his successor to the throne.

King Henry III., happily reigning by the grace of God and his mother
Catharine, was attending a fine procession given in honor of Notre Dame
de Clery.

He had gone on foot with