These ideas were in his brain when the wild boar rushed on Charles, and like lightning he saw that his own existence was bound up with the life of Charles IX.  But the king knew nothing of the spring and motive of the devotion which had saved his life, and on the following day he showed his gratitude to Henry by carrying him off from his apartments, and out of the Louvre.  Catherine, in her fear lest Henry of Navarre should be some day King of France, had arranged the assassination of her son-in-law; and Charles, getting wind of this, warned him that the air of the Louvre was not good for him that night, and kept him in his company.  Instead of Henry, it was one of his followers who was killed.

III.—­The Poisoned Book

Once more Catherine resolved to destroy Henry.  The Huguenots had plotted with D’Alencon that he should be King of Navarre, since Henry not only abjured Protestantism but remained in Paris, being kept there indeed by the will of Charles IX.

Catherine, aware of D’Alencon’s scheme, assured her son that Henry was suffering from an incurable disease, and must be taken away from Paris when D’Alencon started for Navarre.

“Are you sure that Henry will die?” asked D’Alencon.

“The physician who gave me a certain book assured me of it.”

“And where is this book?  What is it?”

Catherine brought the book from her cabinet.

“Here it is.  It is a treatise on the art of rearing and training falcons by an Italian.  Give it to Henry, who is going hawking with the king to-day, and will not fail to read it.”

“I dare not!” said D’Alencon, shuddering.

“Nonsense!” replied Catherine.  “It is a book like any other, only the leaves have a way of sticking together.  Don’t attempt to read it yourself, for you will have to wet the finger in turning over each leaf, which takes up so much time.”

“Oh,” said D’Alencon, “Henry is with the court!  Give me the book, and while he is away I will put it in his room.”

D’Alencon’s hand was trembling as he took the book from the queen-mother, and with some hesitation and fear he entered Henry’s apartment and placed the volume, open at the title-page.

But it was not Henry, but Charles, seeking his brother-in-law, who found the book and carried it off to his own room.  D’Alencon found the king reading.

“By heavens, this is an admirable book!” cried Charles.  “Only it seems as if they had stuck the leaves together on purpose to conceal the wonders it contains.”

D’Alencon’s first thought was to snatch the book from his brother, but he hesitated.

The king again moistened his finger and turned over a page.  “Let me finish this chapter,” he said, “and then tell me what you please.  I have already read fifty pages.”

“He must have tasted the poison five-and-twenty times,” thought D’Alencon.  “He is a dead man!”

The poison did its deadly work.  Charles was taken ill while out hunting, and returned to find his dog dead, and in its mouth pieces of paper from the precious book on falconry.  The king turned pale.  The book was poisoned!  Many things flashed across his memory, and he knew his life was doomed.