Nor were the citizens less eager to obtain the release of their beloved Duke; and the house in which the King had taken up his temporary residence was besieged by anxious crowds who rent the air with cries of “Mercy!  Mercy!  Pardon!  Pardon!” On one occasion their clamour became so loud that Louis angrily demanded the meaning of so unseemly an uproar, when the individual to whom he had addressed himself ventured to reply that what he heard was a general appeal to his clemency, and that should his Majesty be induced to approach the window, he would perhaps take pity upon the people.

“Sir,” replied Louis haughtily, “were I to be governed by the inclinations of my people, I should cease to be a King!” [183]

From any other sovereign than Louis XIII a revocation of the sentence just pronounced against one so universally beloved as Montmorency might well have been anticipated, but the son of Henri IV was inaccessible to mercy where his private feelings were involved; and not only did he resist the entreaties and remonstrances by which he was overwhelmed, but he even refused to suffer the Duchesse de Montmorency, the Princesse de Conde, and the Duc d’Angouleme—­the wife, sister, and brother-in-law of the prisoner—­to approach him.  He was weary of the contest, and eager for the termination of the tragic drama in which he played so unenviable a part.

While all was lamentation and despair about him, and the several churches were thronged with persons offering up prayers for the preservation of the condemned noble, the King coldly issued his orders for the execution, only conceding, as a special favour, that it should take place in the court of the Hotel-de-Ville, and that the hands of the prisoner should not be tied.[184]

Thus, on the 30th of October, the very day of his trial, perished Henri de Montmorency, who died as he had lived, worthy of the great name which had been bequeathed to him by a long line of ancestry, and mourned by all classes in the kingdom.

The unfortunate Marie de Medicis, who received constant intelligence of the movements of the rebel army, had wept bitter tears over the reverses of her errant son; but she had no sooner ascertained that by the Treaty of Beziers he had pledged himself to abandon her interests, than her grief was replaced by indignation, and she complained vehemently of the treachery to which she had been subjected.  With her usual amiability, the Archduchess Isabella sought by every means in her power to tranquillize her mind, representing with some reason that the apparent want of affection and respect exhibited by Gaston on that occasion had probably been forced upon him by the danger of his own position, and entreating that she would at least suffer the Prince to justify himself before she condemned him for an act to which he was in all probability compelled by circumstances.  But the iron had entered into the mother’s soul, and the death of the Comtesse du Fargis, which shortly afterwards took place, added another pang to those which she had already endured.