“I will not die without seeing my head on a quarter-crown piece.”  He entered into flagrant conspiracy with the King of Spain, with the Duke of Savoy, with the French malcontents, the Duke of Bouillon, and the Count of Auvergne.  Henry IV. knew it, and made every effort to appear ignorant of it, to win Biron back to him; he paid his debts; he sent him on an embassy he tempted him to confessions which should entitle him to a full pardon.  “Let him weep,” he would say, “and I will weep with him; let him remember what he owes me, and I will not forget what I owe him.  I were loath that Marshal de Biron should be the first example of my just severity, and that my reign, which has hitherto been calm and serene, should be charged all at once with thunder and lightning.”  He employed Rosily to bring Biron to confess.  “My friend,” said he, “here is an unhappy man, the marshal.  It is a serious case.  I am anxious to spare him.  I cannot bring myself to harm a man who has courage, who has served me so long and been so familiar with me.  My fear is that, though I spare him, he will not spare me or my children, or my kingdom.  He would never confess anything to me; he behaves to me like a man who has some mischief in his heart.  I beg you to see him.  If he is open with you, assure him that he may come to me and I will forgive him with all my heart.”  Rosny tried and failed.  “It is not I who want to destroy this man,” said the king; “it is he who wants to destroy himself.  I will myself tell him that, if he lets himself be brought to justice, he has no mercy whatever to expect from me.”  He saw Biron at Fontainebleau, received him after dinner, spoke to him with his usual familiarity, and pointing to his own equestrian statue in marble which was on the mantelpiece, said, “What would the King cf Spain say if he saw me like that, eh?” “He would not be much afraid of you,” answered Biron.  Henry gave him a stern look.  The marshal tried to take back his words:  “I mean, sir, if he were to see you in that statue yonder, and not in your own person.”  The retreat was not successful; the shot had taken effect; Henry left the room, went back into his closet, and gave orders to his captain of the guard to arrest him.  Then he returned to the room and said, “Marshal, reflect upon what I have said to you.”  Biron preserved a frigid silence.  “Adieu, Baron de Biron!” said the king, thus by a single word annulling all his dignities, and sending him before his proper judges to answer for his treasons.  On the 18th of June, 1602, he brought the marshal before the court of Parliament.  The inquiry lasted three weeks.  Biron was unanimously condemned to death by a hundred and twenty-seven judges “for conspiracies against the king’s person, attempts upon his kingdom, and treasons and treaties with the enemies of the kingdom.”  The king gave to this sentence all the alleviations compatible with public interests.  He allowed Biron to make his will, remitted the confiscation of his property,