the guard under arms. "M.
Rambouillet, who loved me," he continues, "was sitting by the wicket as
I passed out. He took my hand, and with a piteous look said: 'Adieu,
Mergey; adieu, my friend,' not daring to say more, as he told me
afterward."

Coligny's hotel had been crowded all day by visitors; the Queen of
Navarre had paid him a visit, and most of the gentlemen in Paris,
Catholic as well as Huguenot, had gone to express their sympathy. For
the Frenchman is a gallant enemy and respects brave men; and the foul
attempt upon the admiral, whom they had so often encountered on the
battle-field, was felt as a personal injury. A council had been held
that day, at which the propriety of removing in a body from Paris and
carrying the admiral with them had again been discussed. Navarre and
Conde opposed the proposition, and it was finally resolved to petition
to the King "to order all the Guisians out of Paris, because they had
too much sway with the people of the town." One Bouchavannnes, a
traitor, was among them, greedily listening to every word, which he
reported to Anjou, strengthening him in his determination to make a
clean sweep that very night.

As the evening came on, the admiral's visitors took their leave.
Teligny, his son-in-law, was the last to quit his bedside. To the
question whether the admiral would like any of them to keep watch in his
house during the night, he answered, says the contemporary biographer,
"that it was labor more than needed, and gave them thanks with very
loving words." It was after midnight when Teligny and Guerchy departed,
leaving Ambrose Pare and Pastor Merlin with the wounded man. There were
besides in the house two of his gentlemen, Cornaton, afterward his
biographer, and La Bonne; his squire Yolet, five Switzers belonging to
the King of Navarre's guard, and about as many domestic servants. It was
the last night on earth for all except two of that household.

It is strange that the arrangements in the city, which must have been
attended with no little commotion, did not rouse the suspicion of the
Huguenots. Probably, in their blind confidence, they trusted implicitly
in the King's word that these movements of arms and artillery, these
postings of guards and midnight musters, were intended to keep the
Guisian faction in order. There is a story that some gentlemen, aroused
by the measured tread of the soldiers and the glare of torches--for no
lamps then lit up the streets of Paris--w