"Oh! I well knew I could not die without seeing you again!"

And as if she had waited only for that moment to return to Henry the soul he had so loved, she pressed her lips to the King's forehead, again whispered for a last time, "I love you!" and fell back dead.

Henry could not remain longer without risking his own life. He drew his dagger, cut a lock of the beautiful blonde hair which he had so often loosened that he might admire its length, and went out sobbing, in the midst of the tears of all present, who did not doubt but that they were weeping for persons of high degree.

"Friend! mistress!" cried Henry in despair--"all forsake me, all leave me, all fail me at once!"

"Yes, sire," said a man in a low tone, who had left the group in front of the house, and who had followed Henry; "but you still have the throne!"

"Rene!" exclaimed Henry.

"Yes, sire, Rene, who is watching over you. That scoundrel Maurevel uttered your name as he died. It is known you are in Paris; the archers are hunting for you. Flee! Flee!"

"And you say that I shall be King, Rene? I, a fugitive?"

"Look, sire," said the Florentine, pointing to a brilliant star, which appeared from behind the folds of a black cloud, "it is not I who say so, but the star!"

Henry heaved a sigh, and disappeared in the darkness.

END.

FOOTNOTES:

[1]

"To uphold the faith I am beautiful and trusty.

To the king's enemies I am beautiful and cruel."

[2] Bons chiens cha.s.sent de race.

[3]

From up above to down below Gaspard was flung, And then from down below to high above was hung.

[4]

Here lies--the term the question begs, For him you need a word that's stronger: Here hangs the admiral by the legs-- Because he has a head no longer!

[5]

Hawthorn brightly blossoming, Thou dost fling Verdant shadows down the river; Thou art clad from top to roots With long shoots On which graceful leaflets quiver.

Here the poetic nightingale Ne'er doth fail-- Having sung his love to capture-- To repair to consecrate, 'Neath thy verdure, hours of rapture.

Therefore live, O Hawthorn fair, Live fore'er!

May no thunder bolt dare smite thee!

May no axe or cruel blast Overcast!

May the tooth of time....

[6] _Raffines_ or _raffine d'honneur_ was a term applied in the 16th century to men sensitively punctilious and ready to draw their swords at the slightest provocation.--N.H.D.

[7] The original has _a l'aide d'une promenade_.

[8] "Who are standing by my litter?"

"Two pages and an outrider."

"Good! They are barbarians! Tell me, La Mole, whom did you find in your room?"

"Duke Francois."

"Doing what?"

"I do not know."

"With whom?"

"With a stranger."

[9] "I am alone; enter, my dear."

[10] She was in the habit of carrying a large farthingale, containing pockets, in each of which she put a gold box in which was the heart of one of her dead lovers; for she was careful as they died to have their hearts embalmed. This farthingale hung every night from a hook which was secured by a padlock behind the headboard of her bed. (Tallemant Des Reaux, _History of Marguerite of Valois_.)

[11]

Fair d.u.c.h.ess, your dear eyes Are emerald skies, Half hid 'neath cloud-lids white, Whence fiercer lightning flies, Launched forth for our surprise, Than could arise From twenty Joves in furious might.

[12] Charles IX. had married Elizabeth of Austria, daughter of Maximilian.

[13] Had this natural child, no other than the famous Duc d'Angouleme, who died in 1650, been legitimate, he would have supplanted Henry III., Henry IV., Louis XIII., and Louis XIV. What would he have given in place of them? The imagination gropes hopelessly about among the shadows of such a question.

[14]

"Thus had perished one who was feared, Sooner, too soon, would he have died, had it not been for prudence."

[15] Your unlooked-for presence in this court would overwhelm my husband and myself with joy, did it not bring with it a great misfortune, that is, the loss not only of a brother, but also that of a friend.