temperament of Charles, the youthful Emilie was admitted to visit her parent at the Louvre; a freedom which paved the way for a constant residence there. This privilege, however, was obtained only by Margaret and her daughter binding themselves never to disclose the secret of Emilie's rank, unless with her Majesty's consent. Save Valois, the only individual acquainted with the marriage and its history, was Roquelaure, the Queen of Navarre's confessor. But notwithstanding the caution observed by Margaret and her fair offspring, the Queen daily trembled lest the birth of Emilie should be discovered; and the event turned to a political account against herself. To prevent this disaster, she insisted that Mademoiselle should take the veil; a cruelty which dislodged all traces of affection from the heart of the Queen of Navarre towards her mother, whom she now regarded with illconcealed anger and aversion. Hence her reconcilement with Navarre-her abetting his escape-and her determination to forsake the court. The subsequent events we have either fully detailed in the course of our history, or thrown sufficient light upon their progress to make the narrative intelligible. "And how could one so gentle as yourself," exclaimed the enraptured De Nevailles, "dwell beneath the angry frowns of the mistress of the Louvre ?" 66 I scarcely know," replied Emilie, "but her Majesty carried her violent resolves under a mask of smoothness. Sometimes she relented, and laughingly called me a little Valois that ought never to have seen the light. And even when angry, she would speak calmly. Before I quitted the Louvre to travel to the convent at Avignon, she said to me: "You have no right to a place in this world, Mademoiselle Emilie, and must not complain of its inhabitants that you are treated unceremoniously. We who hold the privilege to exist here, have a career to run -a long uneven course with a distant goal. Our destinies, Mademoiselle, are as conflictive as the contest of charioteers outvying and shooting beyond each other in the race. You, Emilie, are a stranger, and on foot, and must run the risk of being trampled on as an unavoidable impediment thrown in our path." "If her Majesty lives long enough to welcome us to 66 the court," exclaimed the Baron, pressing her hand to his lips; you may say, that though a stranger and on foot, a wayward charioteer who contended for the race more from the free exercise of his energies than desire of reaching the goal, stopped in the midst of the struggle to pick up a precious gem which lay in his path; and in the possession of which, he deems himself the most fortunate of the competitors." We must quit this interview, se interesting to the lovers,. to describe the enthusiasm with which Monsieur Pomini 'received the letters patent from the hands of De Nevailles, creating him the Seigneur of L'Isle du Marais. As he surveyed the blazonry which the facile invention of Montjoie had created for the man of letters-patent, he cried out in a voice of childish delight "I am now an equal of the Marquis my career is ended!" "If you are indeed a gentleman, Monsieur L'Isle du Marais," said De Nevailles, "you will feel it has but just commenced. Montjoie has charged that field of azure with anticipated deeds, yet to be realized by your skill and conduct." L'Isle du Marais bowed profoundly; but it was as much to honour the appellation which he heard for the first time applied to himself, as to show his acquiescence in the sentiment expressed by the Baron. But in the midst of the happiness which reigned at D'Usson, the mournful intelligence arrived of the death of the Queen-mother. The mighty soul of Catherine De Medicis had forsaken its earthly tenement; and left that world, whose children she delighted to struggle with, where power and dominion were the prizes of the conqueror. CHAPTER XXXVI. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, SHAKSPEARE. WHILE Henry, the second of that name, and the consort of Catherine, was alive and in good health, it had been foretold to her Majesty that all her sons would become kings. To this prediction she did not at the time attach much credit; but when Francis the Second died, scarcely at an age of maturity-and his brother, Charles the Ninth, succeeded to the throne, she became apprehensive lest the prophecy should be realized in its direst form. Her fears pointed to the successive occupation of the crown of France by her offspring-although the prediction had been uttered in general terms, and did not specify the titles of her children's future greatness. The course which she pursued, although in accordance with the ordinary feelings of the human race, was scarcely worthy of so clear-sighted a Princess. Stimulated into a belief of the prediction by the death of her eldest son, she strove to elude its import in respect to the younger princes of the house of Valois. She could not see, or rather would not see, that if she put faith in the prophecy, it were useless to contend against it; yet her conduct evinced a belief of the power of the prophecy,, while all her endeavours were strained to prevent its accomplishment. To this end, she succeeded in placing Henry on the elective throne of Poland, and D'Alençon was subsequently despatched to pay court to the Queen of England; hoping by these means that the letter of the prediction might be fulfilled without the dreadful alternative of seeing her sons succeed each other on the throne of their ancestors. But Charles died-D'Alençon died—and the last of the house of Valois, whose life had been attempted previously at the porch of Notre Dame, now fell a sacrifice to the vengeance of the monks, through their rage at the murder of the Protector. Vaiois had declared to the assembled army of Catholics and Huguenots besieging Paris, that they should enter by a passage through its rebellious walls; but he was not aware that at the moment he was giving utterance to this vindictive speech, the Leaguers had sped an arrow at his heart. Jaques Clement, the enthusiast, whose wild fancies were kept in incessant play by his brethren, was again let loose like a blood-hound, to track the steps of his royal prey. He left the besieged city with letters intrusted to him by a gentleman attached to Valois, who had been purposely deceived in the character of the enthusiast, through the adroitness of the Leaguers. With these credentials he gained access to the King of France at the camp at St. Cloud; and while the monarch was perusing the papers, he was mortally wounded by the treacherous monk, whose mangled body, dispersed to all the winds of heaven, could but ill atone to the officers of Valois for the loss they had sustained. Ere he died, the King named Henry of Navarre as his successor, who also claimed the crown as the eldest of the princes of the blood, as the Bourbon branch were de signated. But the Catholic Lords would not recognise the heretic Navarre as their sovereign; and they prepared to leave the camp, and forsake the siege. To prevent this step, which would have been the ruin of his own forces as well as his long cherished hopes, he supplicated them to reconsider their decision, and to survey the position in which they themselves would be placed, if De Mayenne, who openly aspired to the crown, were triumphant, assisted as he had been by the money and ammunition of Spain. To this remonstrance the nobles replied by an offer of their allegiance if the Prince would enter the pale of the Catholic church. Navarre rejoined, that such a proceeding was immediately impossible; and that so sudden a conversion would be deservedly held as faithless and deceptive; but if they would continue the siege, he would apply himself devoutly to study the tenets of their religion. This offer was accepted-it gave breathing time to the monarch -and he left his future conduct to chance or expediency, determined to be guided by his own friends in the matter of conversion. As the spring advanced, the chance of capturing the city became more and more certain; a famine, dreadful in its effects to the poorer classes, and distressing to the richer inhabitants, was the daily portion of the besieged. Yet De Mayenne had a stout heart and resolute troops, and the voices of the preachers grew louder as their bodies became weaker. Montpensier, who fed on revenge, was in the city, and encouraged the Leaguers to withstand the evils which assailed them. Nicholas Poulain, whose vocation was still kept secret, (a test of his wonderful ability,) after the death of his royal mistress, and subsequently of her son, continued to render the same good offices to Henri Quatre, which he had performed towards the house of Valois, by sending information to the camp of the movements of the besiegers. The lieutenant, however, was obliged to exert himself in the service of the League, and to appear the most zealous of its partisans. One morning Bussi Le Clerc, the polite governor of the Bastille, summoned Nicholas to accompany him to the palace of the Parliament. 66 "I have received orders," said Le Clerc, "to invite the Presidents and the whole court to dine with me at the Bastille to-day—and you must assist me in marshalling the squadron, as our venerable friends may be predisposed to escape." Upon the breaking up of the States at Blois, the members of the court of Parliament-a chamber of executive justice, totally dissimilar to what is understood in England by the word Parliament-returned to Paris, and continued their sittings in spite of the war of the League, and even of the siege of the city. But these worthies had offended De Mayenne, and were consequently doomed to suffer for their treason to the holy Union of the Catholics. Le Clerc, accompanied by Poulain and several halberdiers, entered the chamber where the Parliament was sitting, and requested the members of the court to accompany him home to his palace. But the venerable President, De Harlai, reproached him for his rudeness in interrupting the court, and bade him wait till the sitting was concluded. "Rude!” cried the enraged Le Clerc ;-"if La Chapelle had done this office, you might have thought him rudebut I! by St. Genevieve! I will be rude." The revenge which Bussi Le Clerc meditated for the attack on his courtesy, was certainly more refined than might have been expected from a citizen-leaguer. He forced the court to give up its sitting, and to follow his |