It is very singular that throughout all the details given of this affair by contemporary writers, no mention is made of the measures adopted by the King to induce or to enforce the violation of the plighted word of the Connetable to Bassompierre.  Even he himself is totally silent upon the subject, whence we are compelled to infer that the will of the sovereign was considered to be beyond appeal, and that his sole pleasure exonerated the Duc de Montmorency from his voluntary engagement.  The whole transaction, indeed, is so entangled and incomprehensible, particularly when the high rank of all the persons concerned in it is considered, that it betrays an amount of recklessness and tyranny on the part of the King which it is difficult to realize in our own times.

Mezeray asserts that it was in order to compel the affections of Mademoiselle de Montmorency through her gratitude, that Henry resolved to unite her to the first Prince of the Blood, and thus elevate her to the highest rank at Court save that of the Queen.[399] Be this as it may, it is certain that he prevailed over the reluctance of both parties, and that a week subsequently to the interview described the Prince de Conde declared his willingness to accept the bride proposed to him by the sovereign; while having a short time afterwards met a number of the great nobles at the levee of the King, he personally invited them to assist at his betrothal that same evening.  Among others he thus addressed Bassompierre, who replied only by a low and ceremonious salutation.  Henry had, however, remarked the circumstance, and beckoning the Marquis to his side, he inquired what had passed between them.

“Monseigneur suggested, Sire, a step which I am not inclined to take.”

“And what was that?” demanded the King.

“That I should accompany him to witness his betrothal.  Is he not old enough to go alone? and can he not be affianced without my presence?  For thus much I can answer, that if he have no other companion than myself, his suite will be a small one.”

“Nevertheless, Bassompierre, you must be there,” said Henry imperiously.

“I cannot, Sire,” expostulated his companion.  “I entreat of you not to insist on my compliance, as I shall be driven to disobey you.  Let it suffice that I have sacrificed a passion which had become the very principle of my existence in order to secure your peace and happiness, and do not ask me to become the witness of my own bitter disappointment.”

“The King, who was the best of men,” pursues the chronicler, “simply replied:  ’I plainly see, Bassompierre, that you are angry, but I feel sure that you will not fail when you remember that it was my nephew, the first Prince of the Blood, by whom you were invited.’”