him. Take him to your inn, and if he still
live, spare nothing. Here is my purse. As to the other, leave him in the
gutter, that he may die like a dog."

"And yourself?" said La Huriere.

"I have a farewell to make. I must hasten, but in ten minutes I shall be
with you. Have my horses ready."

Henry immediately set out towards the Croix des Petits Champs; but as he
turned from the Rue de Grenelle he stopped in terror.

A large crowd was before the door.

"What is the matter?" asked Henry. "What is going on in the house?"

"Oh!" answered the man addressed, "a terrible affair, monsieur. A
beautiful young woman has just been stabbed by her husband, to whom a
note had been given informing him that his wife was here with her
lover."

"And the husband?" cried Henry.

"Has escaped."

"And the wife?"

"She is in the house."

"Dead?"

"Not yet, but, thank God, there is scarcely any hope."

"Oh!" exclaimed Henry, "I am accursed indeed!" and he rushed into the
house.

The room was full of people standing around a bed on which lay poor
Charlotte, who had been stabbed twice.

Her husband, who had hidden his jealousy for two years, had seized this
opportunity to avenge himself on her.

"Charlotte! Charlotte!" cried Henry, pushing through the crowd and
falling on his knees before the bed.

Charlotte opened her beautiful eyes, already veiled by death, and
uttered a cry which caused the blood to flow afresh from her two wounds.
Making an effort to rise, she said:

"Oh! I well knew I could not die without seeing you again!"

And as if she had waited only for that moment to return to Henry the
soul he had so loved, she pressed her lips to the King's forehead, again
whispered for a last time, "I love you!" and fell back dead.

Henry could not remain longer without risking his own life. He drew his
dagger, cut a lock of the beautiful blonde hair which he had so often
loosened that he might admire its length, and went out sobbing, in the
midst of the tears of all present, who did not doubt but that they were
weeping for persons of high degree.

"Friend! mistress!" cried Henry in despair--"all forsake me, all leave
me, all fail me at once!"

"Yes, sire," said a man in a low tone, who had left the group in front
of the house, and who had followed Henry; "but you still have the
throne!"

"Rene!" exclaimed Henry.

"Yes, sire, Rene, who is watching over you. That scoundrel Maurevel
uttered your name as he died.