The Count proceeded to remind the King of the joy which the “Spaniard, his mortal enemy,” had conceived from the desolation of his affairs, being assured that he should, by the troubles in France, be enabled to accomplish his own purposes without striking a blow.  This, he observed, had been the secret of the courtesy with which the writer himself had been treated by the Duke of Alva at the surrender of Mons. Louis assured the King, in continuation, that if he persevered in these oppressive courses towards his subjects of the new religion, there was no hope for him, and that his two brothers would, to no purpose, take their departure for England, and, for Poland, leaving him with a difficult and dangerous war upon his hands.  So long as he maintained a hostile attitude towards the Protestants in his own kingdom, his fair words would produce no effect elsewhere.  “We are beginning to be vexed,” said the Count, “with the manner of negotiation practised by France.  Men do not proceed roundly to business there, but angle with their dissimulation as with a hook.”

He bluntly reminded the King of the deceit which he had practised towards the Admiral—­a sufficient reason why no reliance could in future be placed upon his word.  Signal vengeance on those concerned in the attempted assassination of that great man had been promised, in the royal letters to the Prince of Orange, just before St. Bartholomew.  “Two days afterwards,” said Louis, “your Majesty took that vengeance, but in rather ill fashion.”  It was certain that the King was surrounded by men who desired to work his ruin, and who, for their own purposes, would cause him to bathe still deeper than he had done before in the blood of his subjects.  This ruin his Majesty could still avert; by making peace in his kingdom, and by ceasing to torment his poor subjects of the religion.

In conclusion, the Count, with a few simple but eloquent phrases, alluded to the impossibility of chaining men’s thoughts.  The soul, being immortal, was beyond the reach of kings.  Conscience was not to be conquered, nor the religious spirit imprisoned.  This had been discovered by the Emperor Charles, who had taken all the cities and great personages of Germany captive, but who had nevertheless been unable to take religion captive.  “That is a sentiment,” said Louis, “deeply rooted in the hearts of men, which is not to be plucked out by force of arms.  Let your majesty, therefore not be deceived by the flattery of those who, like bad physicians, keep their patients in ignorance of their disease, whence comes their ruin.”