resistance. A list of them
had been carefully drawn up, which the sire D'O, quartermaster of the
guards, read out. As each man answered his name, he stepped into the
court-yard, where he had to make his way through a double line of Swiss
mercenaries. Sword, spear, and halberd made short work of them, and two
hundred, according to Davila, of the best blood of France soon lay a
ghastly pile beneath the windows of the palace. Charles, it is said,
looked on coldly at the horrid deed, the victims appealing in vain to
his mercy. Among the gentlemen they murdered were two who had been
boldest in their language to the King not many hours before--Segur,
Baron of Pardaillan, and Armand de Clermont, Baron of Pilles, who with
stentorian voices called upon the King to be true to his word. De
Pilles took off his rich cloak and offered it to someone whom he
recognized: "Here is a present from the hand of De Pilles, basely and
traitorously murdered."

"I am not the man you take me for," said the other, refusing the cloak.
The Swiss plundered their victims as they fell, and, pointing to the
heap of half-naked bodies, described them to the spectators as the men
who had conspired to kill the King and all the royal family in their
sleep, and make France a republic. But more disgraceful than even this
massacre was the conduct of some of the ladies in Catherine's train, of
her "flying squadron," who, later in the day, inspected and laughed at
the corpses as they lay stripped in the court-yard, being especially
curious about the body of Soubise, from whom his wife had sought to be
divorced on the ground of nullity of marriage.

A few gentlemen succeeded in escaping from this slaughter. Margaret,
"seeing it was daylight," and imagining the danger past of which her
sister had told her, fell asleep. But her slumbers were soon rudely
broken. "An hour later," she continues, "I was awoke by a man knocking
at the door and calling, 'Navarre! Navarre!' The nurse, thinking it was
my husband, ran and opened it. It was a gentleman named Leran, who had
received a sword-cut in the elbow and a spear-thrust in the arm; four
soldiers were pursuing him, and they all rushed into my chamber after
him. Wishing to save his life, he threw himself upon my bed. Finding
myself clasped in his arms, I got out on the other side; he followed me,
still clinging to me. I did not know the man, and could not tell whether
he came to insult me or whether the soldiers were aft