affectionate friendship, and utterly repudiating all knowledge of these troublesome and dangerous plots.  Yet they had been especially organized—­as we have seen—­by himself and the Balafre, in order that France might be kept a prey to civil war, and thus rendered incapable of offering any obstruction to his great enterprise against England.  Any complicity of Mendoza, the Spanish ambassador in Paris, or, of the Duke of Parma, who were important agents in all these proceedings, with the Duke of Guise, was strenuously—­and circumstantially—­denied; and the Balafre, on the day of the barricades, sent Brissac to Elizabeth’s envoy, Sir Edward Stafford, to assure him as to his personal safety; and as to the deep affection with which England and its Queen were regarded by himself and all his friends.  Stafford had also been advised to accept a guard for his house of embassy.  His reply was noble.

“I represent the majesty of England,” he said, “and can take no safeguard from a subject of the sovereign to whom I am accredited.”

To the threat of being invaded, and to the advice to close his gates, he answered, “Do you see these two doors? now, then, if I am attacked, I am determined to defend myself to the last drop of my blood, to serve as an example to the universe of the law of nations, violated in my person.  Do not imagine that I shall follow your advice.  The gates of an ambassador shall be open to all the world.”

Brissac returned with this answer to Guise, who saw that it was hopeless to attempt making a display in the eyes of Queen Elizabeth, but gave private orders that the ambassador should not be molested.

Such were the consequences of the day of the barricades—­and thus the path of Philip was cleared of all obstructions on, the part of France.  His Mucio was now, generalissimo.  Henry was virtually deposed.  Henry of Navarre, poor and good-humoured as ever, was scarcely so formidable at that moment as he might one day become.  When the news of the day of barricades was brought at night to that cheerful monarch, he started from his couch.  “Ha,” he exclaimed with a laugh, “but they havn’t yet caught the Bearnese!”

And it might be long before the League would catch the Bearnese; but, meantime, he could render slight assistance to Queen Elizabeth.

In England there had been much fruitless negotiation between the government of that country and the commissioners from the States-General.  There was perpetual altercation on the subject of Utrecht, Leyden, Sonoy, and the other causes of contention; the Queen—­as usual—­being imperious and choleric, and the envoys, in her opinion, very insolent.  But the principal topic of discussion was the peace-negotiations, which the States-General, both at home and through their delegation in England, had been doing their best to prevent; steadily refusing her Majesty’s demand that commissioners, on their part, should be appointed to participate in the conferences at Ostend.