Four years glided
swiftly away. Two children were born, a son and a daughter; both died
in infancy. A third child proved to be a daughter. As, by an ancient
law of the realm, daughters were not eligible to the throne of
France, there was great anxiety felt throughout the kingdom. Unless a
prince were born, there would be a failure in the direct line of
succession, and civil war might be the result. On the 13th of
February, the duke and duchess attended the opera. The duchess was
expecting soon again to be a mother. By the sudden opening of a door,
she was unexpectedly struck in the side with violence, which caused
her some alarm, and she expressed the wish to return home.

The duke led her to her carriage. She took her seat in it, saying to
him with a smile, "Adieu; we shall soon meet again." As the duke was
returning to the opera, an assassin, by the name of Louvel, who had
been lying in wait for him, sprang from the darkness of a projecting
wall, and seizing the duke by the shoulder with one hand, with the
other plunged a dagger to the hilt in his side. It was the deed of an
instant, and the assassin, in the darkness, fled, leaving the dagger
in the side of the victim.

The footman was just closing the door of the carriage of the duchess
when she heard her husband cry out, "I am assassinated! I am dead! I
have the poniard! That man has killed me!" With a shriek, the duchess
sprang from her carriage and clasped her husband in her arms, as the
gushing blood followed the dagger which he drew from the wound.

"I am dead!" exclaimed the duke. "Send for a priest. Come, dearest,
let me die in your arms!"

[Illustration: ASSASSINATION OF THE DUKE DE BERRI.]

The dying man was conveyed to an adjoining room, and medical
attendance was summoned. Nothing could staunch the gushing blood, and
life was rapidly ebbing away. The duke was informed that the assassin
was arrested. "Alas!" he said, "how cruel it is to die by the hands
of a Frenchman!" Overhearing some one say to the almost distracted
duchess that he hoped the wound would not prove fatal, the duke
replied, "No; I am not deceived; the poniard has entered to the
hilt." His sight became dim, and he inquired, "Caroline, are you
there?" "Yes," she answered, "and I will never leave you."

His father's confessor, the Bishop of Chartres, entered, and the
dying man had a few moments of private conversation with the
ecclesiastic. He then called for his infant daughter. She wa