daily raving against him, that he was willing to commit any baseness, in order to win back their affection.  He was ready to exterminate heresy and to establish the inquisition, but he was incapable of taking energetic measures of any kind, even when throne and life were in imminent peril.  Moreover, he clung to Epernon and the ‘politiques,’ in whose swords he alone found protection, and he knew that Epernon and the ‘politiques’ were the objects of horror to Paris and to the League.  At the same time he looked imploringly towards England and towards the great Huguenot chieftain, Elizabeth’s knight-errant.  He had a secret interview with Sir Edward Stafford, in the garden of the Bernardino convent, and importuned that envoy to implore the Queen to break off her negotiations with Philip, and even dared to offer the English ambassador a large reward, if such a result could be obtained.  Stafford was also earnestly, requested to beseech the Queen’s influence with Henry of Navarre, that he should convert himself to Catholicism, and thus destroy the League.

On the other hand, the magniloquent Mendoza, who was fond of describing himself as “so violent and terrible to the French that they wished to be rid of him,” had—­as usual—­been frightening the poor King, who, after a futile attempt at dignity, had shrunk before the blusterings of the ambassador.  “This King,” said Don Bernardino, “thought that he could impose, upon me and silence me, by talking loud, but as I didn’t talk softly to him, he has undeceived himself . . . .  I have had another interview with him, and found him softer than silk, and he made me many caresses, and after I went out, he said that I was a very skilful minister.”

It was the purpose of the League to obtain possession of the King’s person, and, if necessary, to dispose of the ‘politiques’ by a general massacre, such as sixteen years before had been so successful in the case of Coligny and the Huguenots.  So the populace—­more rabid than ever—­were impatient that their adored Balafre should come to Paris and begin the holy work.

He came as far as Gonesse to do the job he had promised to Philip, but having heard that Henry had reinforced himself with four thousand Swiss from the garrison of Lagny, he fell back to Soissons.  The King sent him a most abject message, imploring him not to expose his sovereign to so much danger, by setting his foot at that moment in the capital.  The Balafre hesitated, but the populace raved and roared for its darling.  The Queen-Mother urged her unhappy son to yield his consent, and the Montpensier—­fatal sister of Guise, with the famous scissors ever at her girdle—­insisted that her brother had as good a right as any man to come to the city.  Meantime the great chief of the ‘politiques,’ the hated and insolent Epernon, had been appointed governor of Normandy, and Henry had accompanied his beloved minion a part of the way towards Rouen.  A plot contrived by the Montpensier to waylay the monarch on his return, and