_ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S DAY._

"Kill! kill! kill!" was the cry in Paris. "Blood! blood! death to the
Huguenots!" came from the lips of thousands of maddened murderers. Blood
flowed everywhere; men dabbled in blood, almost bathed in blood. A
crimson tide flowed in the streets of Paris deep enough to damn the
infamous Catherine de' Medici and her confederates. To the crime of
assassination on that direful day of St. Bartholomew must be added that
of treachery of the darkest hue. Peace had been made between the warring
parties. The Protestant chiefs had been invited to Paris to witness the
marriage of the young King Henry of Navarre with Marguerite de Valois,
sister of the king of France, which was fixed for the 18th of August,
1572. They had been received with every show of amity and good-will. The
great Huguenot leader, Admiral de Coligny, had come, confiding in the
honor of his late foes, and had been received by the king, Charles IX.,
with demonstrations of sincere friendship, though the weak monarch
warned him to beware of the Guises, his bitter enemies and the
remorseless haters of all opponents of the Catholic party.

On the 22d of August the work of treachery began. On that day a
murderous shot was fired at Coligny as he stood by the window of his
room engaged in reading a letter. It smashed two fingers of his right
hand, and lodged a ball in his left arm. The would-be murderer escaped.

"Here is a fine proof of the fidelity to his agreement of the Duke of
Guise," said Coligny, reproachfully, to the king.

"My dear father," returned the king, "the hurt is yours, the grief and
the outrage mine; but I will take such vengeance that it shall never be
forgotten."

He meant it for the moment; but his mind was feeble, his will weak,
himself a mere puppet in the hands of his imperious mother and the
implacable Guises. Between them they had determined to rid themselves of
the opposing party in the state on the death of the admiral and the
other Protestant leaders. Sure of their power over the king, the orders
for the massacre were already given when, near midnight of August 24,
St. Bartholomew's day, the queen, with some of her leading councillors,
sought the king's room and made a determined assault upon the feeble
defences of his intellect.

"The slaughter of many thousands of men may be prevented by a single
sword-thrust," they argued. "Only kill the admiral, the head and front
of the civil wars, and the streng