fair D'Estrées, but the passion which he conceived for her, induced him to declare his rank, accompanied with protestations of affection, which shocked the lady, unable to resolve the inconsistency of a prince professing attachment at a first interview; nor how one so famed for his chivalry and honour, could insult her with the offer of what he had it not in his power to bestow.

But Navarre, whose warmth of temperament was such that a short hour sufficed to render him a despairing lover, was not to be baffled by an obstacle which he had previously determined to remove. He explained to the lady that Margaret was indifferent to the union which had been forced upon her that his own councillors desired the divorce of a marriage which would blight the prospects of the kingdom of Navarre; and that as rumour had already reported his consort to have quitted the court of her mother, she would gladly acquiesce in the proposal of a divorce a measure, he added, she had long earnestly desired during their sojourn at the Louvre.

To these representations Gabrielle would have given but little heed, had she not been prepossessed in favour of the handsome prince, and in the charm of a meeting which wore the air of romance. She consented on their parting in the valley beneath D'Usson, that she would see him again, if it were only for the purpose of his exhibiting the proofs of his intended divorce from Margaret, and that his honour might be thus made clear to the lovely Chatelaine. That she kept her word-that their confidence grew daily-the vision which Jean La Roche beheld from the ladder is sufficing proof.

Nothing was more opportune to the wishes of Navarre than the arrival of Margaret at D'Usson; yet to Gabrielle it was a matter of self-reproach that she was entertaining, as a lover, the husband of the Queen. The forcible possession of the fortress, however, changed the feelings of its former mistress, who did not now check her emotions of secret triumph over the boast of the Louvre the hospitality of her father had been outraged but what a triumph! when the day arrived which would place the crown of Navarre on the head of his daughter.

The almost forgotten track to the summit of the rock was the path by which the Huguenot leader gained the bower of his sweet mistress; but who could paint the alarm of the lovers when the head of the arquebusier was seen

peeping through the lattice, and his voice heard jarringly on their pleasant discourse.

But when the peasant-clad Prince looked down, and beheld the number of the troop below-and Gabrielle, who flew to the window, half conscious that her father was at hand, heard his voice in angry expostulation with La Roche -both Navarre and the lady were at their wits' end. No time was to be lost: it was essential to the honour of the lady that the soldier's eyesight should be accounted deceptive, and the Prince was hidden ere the Marquis gained the chamber of his daughter.

De Cœuvres, as we have shown, was imposed on succesfully. After De Nevailles had left the Marquis with his friends, the old noble was obliged to declare to such of the troops below as were still alive, the unfortunate result of the attempt: commanding them to return to the valley. When he retired to rest, Navarre was released from his place of concealment; a temporary ladder constructed and the Prince escaped by the way he had entered.

d;

The negotiations which subsequently ensued between himself and his Queen, realized the hopes he had so much at heart; and when intelligence arrived that De Cœuvres and his daughter were at Blois, life became wearisome, till he had gained an opportunity of seeing her once more with the happy news of his speedy release.

Thus was the obscure Father Anselm, the cordelier monk, in the presence of his Huguenot friends, a warrior and a Prince, scheming future conquests, and planning new designs against his enemies; in the presence of Gabrielle, a lover awaiting the happy hour to throw himself and his fortunes at her feet.

When the Baron De Nevailles, on the morning subsequent to his humiliating reception, related to the Count De Grammont and his politic friend the fruits of his private interview with the Queen, they were overjoyed at the favourable result of the conference; and in return for this piece of good news acquainted him with the quality of the humble secretary of Father Roquelaure.

"Ah! you did wrong to allow his Majesty to come hither," exclaimed the favourite of Catherine, "the captivating scenes which meet his eyes in this gay abode, will bring on the old fit of luxury and sloth. I doubt not you have had trouble enough to restrain him within the limits of ecclesiastical demeanour, and the close secrecy which

perforce must be adopted to prevent his well-known face from being recognised."

"In God's will! he is all our own," cried De Gram

mont.

"Is Madame De Sauves at Blois ?" asked De Nevailles. "For a young man you are the most suspicious I ever met with," exclaimed De Rosny rather sharply-seeing that the Baron was not inclined to put faith in the good character of his liege. "Madame De Sauves is at Blois, Monseigneur! Here in the palace, actively intriguing, as I have discovered, but only for the furtherance of the plots of the Leaguer Guise, whose creature she now is.”

"And does her Majesty know of it?" asked the Baron, smiling.

"It is the common talk," replied De Rosny, "I spoke of it to her and she laughed, and said that Guise might as well look through a sieve as into the magic mirror of De Sauves' pretty face, for Madame D'Usez had instructed the Dutchess D'Espernon née Comtesse Candales, to disclose fictitious intelligence to De Sauves, which would mislead the Protector.'

"I begin to feel already at home," said De Nevailles, turning on his heel; "so you are in the confidence of our lady of the Louvre."

"Even so," replied De Rosny, "but where will this end?"

"Ah!" exclaimed the Count De Grammont.

"I have often thought of you, Count, amid these plottings," said De Nevailles in a jocular mood; "but are they not preferable to the cruelty which formerly characterized. the proceedings of the court? think only of the massacre of St. Bartholomew, a name which makes the blood run cold in the veins of our honest burgesses of Rochelle! Ah! and what quiet modes our lady of the Louvre and her son Charles adopted to get rid of a troublesome gentleman of the court-a pretender to the favour of Mademoiselle Elizabeth, or her sister, our gracious Queen of Navarre! How different since the peaceful Henri de Valois succeeded to the sceptre of his fierce brother. I would as soon have trusted myself to the waters of Biscay in a cooper's tub, as have come within the clutches of Catherine, if Charles, of happy memory, had been alive. Now every thing is decided by expediency and without violence, unless it be absolutely necessary. I am of more use alive than dead,

to the Queen of France, therefore I still exist. If the hero of St. Bartholomew had been living and in the saloon, when I entered, he would have frowned, hung his head on one side, like an idiot, as was his custom when any person or event displeased him, whispered a few words to a complaisant noble-and ere the next day's sun illumined the roof of the chateau, my corse would have been discovered on the staircase, or in the gardens, or, if decency were the whim of the moment, floating down the Loire."

"You speak truly," said De Grammont, "I heard one ask this morning if you were yet placed in custody--and upon the questioner receiving a reply in the negative, he said Villeroi had grown dilatory."

Then followed a mutual explanation of their respective views, with respect to the policy to be adopted towards Catherine, to force her to fulfil the conditions of the treaty which she had herself proposed to the Huguenots. Grammont showed himself excessively angry at the continual delays which occurred.

De

"She will wait till the opening of the States, ere she signs a single article," said De Nevailles, "and if she can make favourable terms with Guise, even at the sacrifice of ourselves, we shall assuredly be sent back to the place we came from-that Monseigneur may rely on-but you may trust to the pride and strength of the Protector that he will not submit to conditions, unless such as would be humiliating, beyond endurance, to the court. It will be a death-struggle! but bear with her Majesty's character. My policy has ever been that of the creeping ivy, which pliantly bends out of its course to humour every excrescence and projection of the tree it embraces, yet glides into the hollows and curves, from which it cannot be displaced without injury to the trunk. This is the secret of my power-the secret of my being at this moment free."

"We expect much from your presence, Baron," said De Rosny," but let us now seek Father Anselm."

Roquelaure was lodged in the northern angle of the chateau, in a pleasant chamber which overlooked a portion of the city, and the woods which skirted the road to

Paris.

Here, in a deep-bayed window, was to be seen the cordelier's secretary busily engaged in writing to his friends; and here we must leave De Rosny and his brother agents to canvass with their leader the course to be pursued on the morrow, at the opening of the States.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

O wretched land, if his outrageous pride,
His cruell and untempred wilfulnesse,

His deepe dissembling shewes of false pretence,
Should once attaine the crowne-

*

Who seeth not now how many rising mindes
Do feede their thoughts, with hope to reach a realme?
And who will not by force attempt to winne
So great a gaine that hope perswades to have?

GORBODUC.

THE ensuing morning saw the Duke of Guise, like a skilful general, marshalling his forces for the dreaded battle. He was confident in his own strength; but there was enough of danger in the artful manœuvring of Catherine, as well as in the loyalty which yet retained a hold in the hearts of many of the deputies, to inspire him with a prudential fear for the result; an apprehension sufficiently strong to cause him to neglect nothing which might operate in his favour without inspiring either himself or his followers with distrust.

The Protector of the Laegue was now in the very zenith of his power. Did he desire a court? A train of nobles in semblance of royalty? Behold the dignitaries of the church; Archbishops, Cardinals, lordly Abbots, and influential preachers crowded his levee! Did he desire an army? Behold the numerous band of nobles who tendered their lives and fortunes in his cause, or to speak more correctly, in their own! When the busy thoughts which crowded his soul allowed a short interval of repose-a moment's breathing time to look into himself—and also to look around and survey the base of that power, of which he was the apex-the summit of the pyramid-he felt more than mortal, a demi-god, a superior influence, to which even the Church bowed lowly-a Jupiter tonans, issuing forth his dread bolts to exterminate the olden corrupt Saturnial dynasty of France.

His very wishes were anticipated; the glance of his eye sought after, as though its gaze were healsome to the infirmities of humanity. He moved abroad in a circle of friends, who supported him as the rich setting of the ring encircles the gem.