Gabrielle stormed, was disconsolate, wept, threw herself at the king’s feet, and, “seeing him more strong-minded than had been supposed by those who had counselled her to this escapade, began to calm herself,” says Sully, “and everything was set right again on every side.”

But Sully was not at the end of his embarrassments or of the sometimes feeble and sometimes sturdy fancies of his king.  On the 10th of April, 1599, Gabrielle d’Estrees died so suddenly that, according to the bias of the times, when, in the highest ranks, crimes were so common that they were always considered possible and almost probable, she was at first supposed to have been poisoned; but there seemed to be no likelihood of this.  The consent of Marguerite de Valois to the annulment of her marriage was obtained; and negotiations were opened at Rome by Arnold d’Ossat, who was made a cardinal, and by Brulart de Sillery, ambassador ad hoc.  But a new difficulty supervened; not for the negotiators, who knew, or appeared to know, nothing about it, but for Sully.  In three or four weeks after the death of Gabrielle d’Estrees Henry IV. was paying court to a new favorite.  One morning, at Fontainebleau, just as he was going out hunting, he took Sully by the hand, led him into the first gallery, gave him a paper, and, turning the other way as if he were ashamed to see it read by Sully, “Read that,” said he, “and then tell me your opinion of it.”  Sully found that it was a promise of marriage given to Mdlle.  Henriette d’Entraigues, daughter of Francis de Balzac, Lord of Entraigues, and Marie Touchet, favorite of Charles IX.  Sully went up to the king, holding in his hand the paper folded up.

“What do you think of it?” said the king.  “Now, now, speak freely; your silence offends me far more than your most adverse expressions could.  I misdoubt me much that you will not give me your approval, if it were only for the hundred thousand crowns that I made you hand over with so much regret; I promise you not to be vexed at anything you can possibly say to me.”  “You mean it, sir, and you promise not to be angry with me, whatever I may say or do?” “Yes, yes; I promise all you desire, since for anything you say it will be all the same, neither more nor less.”  Thereupon, taking that written promise as if he would have given it back to the king, Sully, instead of that, tore it in two, saying, a “There, sir, as you wish to know, is what I think about such a promise.”  “Ha! morbleu, what are you at?  Are you mad?” “It is true, sir; I am a madman and fool; and I wish I were so much thereof as to be the only one in France.”  “Very well, very well:  I understand you,” said the king, “and will say no more, in order to keep my word to you; but give me back that paper.”  “Sir,” replied Sully, “I have no doubt your Majesty is aware that you are destroying all the preparatives for your dismarriage, for, this promise once divulged,—­and it is demanded of you for no other purpose,—­never will the queen, your wife, do the things necessary to make your dismarriage valid, nor indeed will the pope bestow upon it his Apostolic blessing; that I know of my own knowledge.”