Medicis' ladies, by whom he was in his turn beloved. But
although little affection existed between the royal pair, the strong links
of interest and ambition bound them together; and no sooner were they
married than they entered into a treaty of political alliance, to which,
for some time, both steadily and truly adhered.

On the night of the St Bartholomew, a Huguenot gentleman, the Count Lerac
de la Mole, who has arrived that day at Paris with important letters for
the King of Navarre, seeks refuge in the apartments of the latter from the
assassins who pursue and have already wounded him. Unacquainted, however,
with the Louvre, he mistakes the door, and enters the apartment of the
Queen of Navarre, who, seized with pity, and struck also by the youth and
elegance of the fugitive, gives him shelter, and herself dresses his
wounds, employing in his behalf the surgical skill which she has acquired
from the celebrated Ambrose Pare, whose pupil she had been. One of the
most furious of La Mole's pursuers is a Piedmontese gentleman, Count
Hannibal de Coconnas, who has also arrived that day in the capital, and
put up at the same hotel as La Mole. When the latter is rescued by
Margaret, Coconnas wanders through Paris, killing all the Huguenots he can
find--such, at least, as will defend themselves. In a lonely part of the
town he is overpowered by numbers, and is rescued from imminent peril by
the Duke of Guise's sister-in-law, the Duchess of Nevers, that
golden-haired, emerald-eyed dame, of whom Ronsard sang--

"La Duchesse de Nevers
Aux yeux verts,
Qui sous leur paupiere blonde,
Lancent sur nous plus d'eclairs
Que ne font vingt Jupiters
Dans les airs
Lorsque la tempete gronde."

To cut the story short, La Mole falls violently in love with Margaret,
Coconnas does the same with the duchess; and these four personages play
important parts in the ensuing narrative, which extends over a space of
nearly two years, and into which the author, according to his custom,
introduces a vast array of characters, for the most part historical, all
spiritedly drawn and well sustained. M. Dumas may, in various respects, be
held up as an example to our history spoilers, self-styled writers of
historical romance, on this side the Channel. One does not find him
profaning public edifices by causing all sorts of absurdities to pass, and
of twaddle to be spoken, within their precincts; neither does he make his
kings and begg