ing the attempt. "Is it
so, old fox?" exclaimed the murderer, who drew his dagger and stabbed
him several times. Then, assisted by Sarlabous, he threw the body down.
It was hardly to be recognized. The bastard of Angouleme--the chevalier
as he is called in some of the narratives--wiped the blood from the face
of the corpse. "Yes, it is he; I know him well," said Guise, kicking the
body as he spoke. "Well done, my men," he continued, "we have made a
good beginning. Forward--by the King's command." He mounted his horse
and rode out of the court-yard, followed by Nevers, who cynically
exclaimed as he looked at the body, "_Sic transit gloria mundi_."
Tosinghi took the chain of gold--the insignia of his office--from the
admiral's neck, and Petrucci, a gentleman in the train of the Duke of
Nevers, cut off the head and carried it away carefully to the Louvre. Of
all who were found in the house, not one was spared except Ambrose Pare,
who was escorted in safety to the palace by a detachment of Anjou's
guard.

Coligny's headless trunk was left for some hours where it fell, until it
became the sport of rabble children, who dragged it all round Paris.
They tried to burn it, but did little more than scorch and blacken the
remains, which were first thrown into the river, and then taken out
again "as unworthy to be food for fish," says Claude Haton. In accordance
with the old sentence of the Paris Parliament, it was dragged by the
hangman to the common gallows at Montfaucon, and there hanged up by the
heels. All the court went to gratify their eyes with the sight, and
Charles, unconsciously imitating the language of Vitellius, said, as he
drew near the offensive corpse, "The smell of a dead enemy is always
sweet." The body was left hanging for a fortnight or more, after which
it was privily taken down by the admiral's cousin, Marshal Montmorency,
and it now rests, after many removals, in a wall among the ruins of his
hereditary castle of Chatillon-sur-Loing. What became of the head no one
knows.

When Guise left the admiral's corpse lying in the court-yard, he went
to the adjoining house, in which Teligny lived. All the inmates were
killed, but he escaped by the roof. Twice he fell into the hands of the
enemy, and twice he was spared; he perished at last by the sword of a
man who knew not his amiable and inoffensive character. His neighbor
La Rochefoucault was perhaps more fortunate in his fate. He had hardly
fallen asleep when he