siness lest there should, after
all, be peace in France, and lest his schemes against Holland and England
might be interfered with from that quarter. Even Farnese, nearer the
scene, could, not feel completely secure that a sudden reconciliation
among contending factions might not give rise to a dangerous inroad
across the Flemish border. So Guise was plied more vigourously than ever
by the Duke with advice and encouragement, and assisted with such Walloon
carabineers as could be spared, while large subsidies and larger promises
came from Philip, whose prudent policy was never to pay excessive sums,
until the work contracted for was done. "Mucio must do the job long since
agreed upon," said Philip to Farnese, "and you and Mendoza must see that
he prevents the King of France from troubling me in my enterprize against
England." If the unlucky Henry III. had retained one spark of
intelligence, he would have seen that his only chance of rescue lay in
the arm of the Bearnese, and in an honest alliance with England. Yet so
strong was his love for the monks, who were daily raving against him,
that he was willing to commit any baseness, in order to win back their
affection. He was ready to exterminate heresy and to establish the
inquisition, but he was incapable of taking energetic measures of any
kind, even when throne and life were in imminent peril. Moreover, he
clung to Epernon and the 'politiques,' in whose swords he alone found
protection, and he knew that Epernon and the 'politiques' were the
objects of horror to Paris and to the League. At the same time he looked
imploringly towards England and towards the great Huguenot chieftain,
Elizabeth's knight-errant. He had a secret interview with Sir Edward
Stafford, in the garden of the Bernardino convent, and importuned that
envoy to implore the Queen to break off her negotiations with Philip, and
even dared to offer the English ambassador a large reward, if such a
result could be obtained. Stafford was also earnestly, requested to
beseech the Queen's influence with Henry of Navarre, that he should
convert himself to Catholicism, and thus destroy the League.

On the other hand, the magniloquent Mendoza, who was fond of describing
himself as "so violent and terrible to the French that they wished to be
rid of him," had--as usual--been frightening the poor King, who, after a
futile attempt at dignity, had shrunk before the blusterings of the
ambassador. "This King," said Don Bern