LOve makes as many People unhappy, as Fortune: Many great Persons have been seen to struggle and bear up couragiously against the assaults of Fortune, who have not been able to withstand the attacks and impressions of Love. A Prince of Condé (and that very name is sufficient to pronounce him a great Man) had been the happiest Prince of his time, had not that Passion mingled it self with others, which made him so eminent; but his Ambition (which he cloaked un­der the pretence of Religion) ceased [Page 2]to be omnipotent, from the time that Love entered into his Heart. He was Brother to Anthony de Bour­bon, the Father of Henry the Great, a Prince whose Memory is adorable in France, and whose Glory im­mortal, whilest there is the least Fi­delity in the Age. This Anthony de Bourbon (King of Navarre, in right of his Wife Jeane d' Albert) was a Prince whose Courage wil­lingly reposed it self, when there were no great Affairs on foot to give it agitation. His Prudence was but indifferent, and rather inclining to weakness, or to use the terms of the Historian, He was considerable more for his quality, then qualifica­tions. But Lewis, his younger Bro­ther, was valiant, firm, prompt, daring, and so possest of his own Merit, that he thought it a defect in his Fortune, more then in his Ca­pacity, that he also had not a Crown.

He was very young when he mar­ried Eleanor de Roy, rather to ac­commodate his affairs (for his Birth was not attended with every thing necessary to his living up to it) then for any great inclination he had to her person: Not but she was one of the handsomest about the Court, but in those days their niceness began to be extravagant, and the Gallants by profession (of which number the Prince of Condé was one) feared no scandal so much, as that of being kind to their Wives; vertue which they declared unfit to be practised by any person of condition. The Daughter of the Mareschal de S. André (being as beautiful as her Father was valiant) was the Person the Prince of Condé designed for his Conquest. This Mareschal was devoted intirely to the House of Lorraine (which was a declared Enemy to the House of Bourbon) and had promised his [Page 4]Daughter to the eldest Son of the Duke of Guise, against whom the Prince had too great an animosity, not to seek out all ways imaginable to ingratiate with so fair a Lady, though but in revenge.

The Mareschal de S. Andre's Daughter was one of the Maids of Honor to Queen Catharine, and not much loved by the rest, because her beauty was more celebrated; and there is nothing mortifying amongst Ladies, like preference in that point: But the pleasure which she took to find her self admired by all people that saw her, supported her well enough against their little af­fronts, and it was vengeance suffi­cient to leave them only such hom­ages, as she had refused. Francis the Second, who Reigned at that time, reposed his State Affairs upon the Queen-Mother, to whom no­thing being dearer then Govern­ment, she forgot nothing that might [Page 5]keep him in ignorance; represent­ing to him, that the life of a Mo­narch was no longer then the life of another Man; that many times their prime was passed, before they understood how to imploy it to the best; and that the wisdom of a young Prince consisted in tasting more pleasure then the rest of his Subjects. Poysoned with these dan­gerous Maximes, he suffered no oc­casion to escape in which he might indulge, and the Queen upon her own private account was so unwil­ling that he should want, that she made it her business sometimes to contrive entertainments for him her self.

One day after a hunting match in the Forest of Meudon (which be­longed to the House of Guise) the Queen having sent the whole Court thither, would needs regal them at a House which Monsieur Condé had at S. Cloud, and at that time was [Page 6]one of the pleasantest places about Paris. The Maids of Honor of the two Queens (for Francis the Se­cond had married Mary, Daughter and Heir of the Kingdom of Scot­land, who delighted no more in State Matters then her Husband.) The Maids of Honor of these two Queens (I say) were drest with as much exactness as was possible, and did execution according to the pro­portion of Beauty, wherewith each of them was charged; but among them all, there was none but Mada­moiseille de S. André, universally admired; for she captivated all peo­ple that presented themselves to her eye. The Prince of Condé, who had no thoughts of courting her, but in opposition to the Prince de Joinville, to whom she was pro­mised, began to acknowledge that he had done her injustice, and to find that upon her own score, she was sufficiently amiable, without [Page 7]other considerations. She was so great a lover of Fishing, that being come to S. Cloud, she desired one of the Queens Pages to procure her an Angle, what ever it cost, and to expect her at the side of the Ca­nal in the Garden, whither she would not fail to repair with all possible speed. The great Feast that was preparing, was not so much to her satisfaction, as the pleasure she hoped to have after it was done. Least she should be followed with a shole of admirers, with which she was continually attended, she went into the Chamber where the Queens were; and passing thorow it, went down privately, by a Pair of back Stairs, into the Garden to the Page, who was waiting for her, with her Rod and her Line.

The Prince of Condé had never seen her so glorious as that day; and finding her much handsomer then ordinary, he began to love her [Page 8]much better then before. He was discoursing in one of the Walks, with the Admiral of Colignes, to whom he discovered the Passion he had for that Lady, stopping his ears to what ever the said Admiral could object against a thing that he found incompatible with their design, of wresting the Government out of the hands of the House of Guise. What hath our design to do with my Passion (said the Prince) the Religion of which, you are a Professor, (and I, the rather, because the Guises are of the other.) This Religion, I say, does it forbid any Man that is a Gentle­man, for loving the most beautiful Person in the World? Or what ven­geance would be left for me to take of the Prince of Joinville (whom I hate for being Son to the Duke of Guise) if, by a destiny transcending the good fortune of so many brave Men as are at Court, he should engross so excellent a Lady. No, no, Monsieur [Page 9]l'Admiral, said the Prince, that shall never be laid at my door. The Pri­viledges of the Guises are not great enough to exempt their Family from a disgrace, that perhaps neither you nor I am exempt from; and though I were not the most amorous of my Sex, it would please me to be so much their Enemy, as to give them all the disquiet I might. He was in this discourse when he perceived Madamoiselle de S. André marching towards the Canal, where she was attended by the Page. Adieu Monsieur l' Admi­ral (said the Prince to him some­thing suddenly) it would be but civil, having brought you hither, to wait up­on you back; but the present con­juncture is, in my judgment, a suffici­ent excuse; and I should deserve that fortune which I am preparing for other people, if I should suffer it to pass without making my advantage.

Having made that short Apology, he left the Admiral, and followed [Page 10]Madamoiselle de S. André, but for fear she should be angry, he followed her another way, and never disco­vered himself till she had thrown in her Line two or three times. As far as I see, Madamoiselle (said he, falulting her) you are resolved to give no quarter to any thing. After so hap­py an Hunting, I thought you would have suffered the poor Fish to have been at quiet, and contented your self to have either killed or wounded what­ever presented it self before your eyes. You are mistaken Sir, (said she) if you think I have been so well pleased with this days Hunting; I have had a misfortune, that, perhaps, I might have repaired in this place, had not you interrupted me; and if you will, give me leave to be free, I must tell you, I am under a secret disorder, that renders me almost insensible of the honor I receive by your presence. The intelligence that I have had of your progress this day, Madam, (replied [Page 11]the Prince) is perhaps better, and more certain then you imagine; though your Engins were unfervice­able, your beauty was not; the shot that came from your eyes, was more sure then that which came from your hand, wounded more certainly, and in a more dangerous place. Mada­moiselle de S. André having told the Page that there was no farther need of his attendance, and the Page be­ing gone, I understand you Sir, (re­plied the Lady) and do see afar off, what is your design: The time of so great a Prince is too pretious to be abused. You love me? Yes Madam (replied the Prince) I do love you, and I love nothing in the World, with so much passion, as I love you. And where are your hopes? (said she to him) your heart is ingaged already to Ma­dam la Princess, and mine to the Prince de Joinville, who is appoint­ed to be my Husband. If my heart were so wholly ingaged to Madam la [Page 12]Princess (replied the Prince) she would not suffer you to have so much dominion there: And as to your heart, it is not yet obliged to the Husband, you are still to marry, and which is more, you are too wise to permit that ever it be.

Who is it, that I reserve it for? (re­plied the Lady, interrupting him with an astonishment, that he seem­ed not to regard) For me, (replied the Prince, with a confidence that redoubled her astonishment,) your heart is a prize impossible to be deser­ved, but by a love as great as mine is for your Ladiship. The Husband (who I will not say is promised, for it is the worst promise that can be made to you.) This Husband, I say, with whom you are threatned, does he know the value of the heart which your weak­ness reserves for him? If he valued it, as it ought to be valued; would not be desire to ow it to your self, rather then to the Authority of your Father, [Page 13]who sacrifices you to his particular in­terest? The Prince of Joinville neg­lects you, since he hath thought himself sure of you; and you need not doubt, but he will do it more when you are in his possession.

Monsieur le Prince (replied the young Lady, who had heard him with great patience) I thank you for your good counsel; you speak to me like a true Enemy of the Family, from whence I am descended, and of that, to which I am designed. If you love me, as you pretend (and I am apt to think it possible, because I am not altogether without allurements to con­strain you) I have advantage enough over you, to revenge Monsieur de Guise, and my Father, for the hatred which you bare them.

These last words were delivered with an air, that gave the Prince to understand, his affairs were not in so good a posture as he fancied; and the formality which she used a [Page 14]while after, when she took her leave of him, did perfectly disabuse him: He had presaged much happiness to his designs, from the eagerness wherewith she demanded, whether he loved her? He used his endea­vors to have staid her, but all was to no purpose; she went back to the company that she had left, and the Prince returned to the Admiral de Coligny, who was not a little pleased, that she had ill treated a Passion which he had so little ap­proved.

The Evening being come, the Court returned to Paris; the Prince had another sight of Madamoiselle de S. André in the Louvre; and en­deavored to accost her, but she a­voided the occasion: As she was getting from him, a Note tell out of her Pocket, which was taken up by the Prince, and the Lady never per­ceived it. He had not patience to stay till he got home, before he [Page 15]looked what was in it; he only went down out of the Louvre to read it more quietly, and by the light of a Lanthorne, at the bot­tome of the Stairs, he found it con­tained these words.

This of the Metamorphoses, was one of the richest Chambers in the Louvre; it was called The Chamber of the Metamorphoses, because every piece of the Tapistry hangings re­presented some of the disguisements, [Page 16]of which the gods made use to ob­tain their designs upon their Mi­stresses; and the piece that carried the price from them all, was a Da­na made by so neat a hand, and drawn in so skilful a manner, that in her face one might see the very transport she was in, when she per­ceived the shower of Gold.

The Prince of Condé was strange­ly surprised; he examined the hand, and looked it over and over, but could not guess whose it should be: Had it not been so late, he would not have failed to have carried it to the Admiral, and desired his opi­nion; but it was almost midnight, and the rendezvous being at one, he had not time enough to do every thing he projected. As he went up again to the Louvre, he met Dande­lot (Brother to the Admiral, and Colonel of the French Infantry) go­ing home: He desired him, that he would not be far off, and that he [Page 17]would cause some of his Soldiers to stand to their Arms, and be ready to relieve him, if he should happen to hear any noise. Dandelot press­ed to know what occasion he had for them, and made some difficulty to leave him: But the Prince appre­hending that a second might fru­strate his designs, conjured him to inquire no farther, protesting, That the thing which he was so eager to dis­cover, was only matter of Love; and that if it were any thing of greater im­portance, he should not be the Man from whom he would conceal it. It would much discompose me (replied Dandelot) if my zeal should be an impediment to your good fortune. I am sorry that I have detained you these few minutes, which you would have im­ployed better elswhere: To make you reparation, I will go and dispose some of my Soldiers so near you, that they shall be ready to bring you off, if any Husband be so much an Enemy to the [Page 18]State, as to interrupt the pleasures of a Prince, who is so necessary to it. The Prince smiling at what Dandelot had said, bowed his head, and went up into the Louvre, towards the appar­tement, where the Chamber of Me­tamorphoses was. Whilest he was in discourse with Dandelot, La Noûe (who was the discreetest Woman in the whole Court, for the conduct of such an intrigue) finding the hour of the Redezvous at hand, had been to put the Key privately into the Door, and was withdrawn a­gain, to spare the fair Lady (to whom she had done that great ser­vice) the shame of being seen in her passage.

The Prince advanced to the Door, and found the Key in it; having scratched three or four times, and no body opening, he opened it himself, and stole in as softly as he could. The Door shut with as lit-little noise as it opened; he drew [Page 19]his Sword out of his Belt, and with his hand felt over all the Chairs in the Chamber, to find whether any body was a sleep there: When he had satisfied his curiosity, and could assure himself that he was alone, he moved towards that side where he knew the Bed stood, with design to hide himself under it, for he could not think of any other place where he might be so sure; and the door of the Ballisters being locked, he passed over them.

He was no sooner settled under the Bed, but a Clock which he had in his Pocket, with an excellent Bell, began to strike, and was near a quarter of an hour in striking Twelve, which made him swear as many oaths, one after another. This was a new trouble to the Prince, who had taken no little pains be­fore to lodge himself close. His first thoughts were to throw it out of the Window, but the difficulty [Page 20]which he had passed to gain the Post he was in, remembring him of what he was like to find in getting out, and returning again, he pulled his Clock out of his Pocket, as well as he could, brake all the Springs, and put it up again when he had done. The time that was behind, would have seemed cruelly tedious to him, had he not imployed it in making reflections, some rational, and some amorous. The Prince of Condé un­der a Bed! he thought it was but an odd place for so great a Person; and his heart as well as his quality, was much offended at what his love had put him upon; but then pre­sently he recollected, and perswaded himself, That his reputation was at too high a pitch to be lessened by any thing; that no posture was un­decent, which was useful; that the Gallant he endeavored to surprise, might possibly prove the greatest of his Enemies, and it would be a [Page 21]shame to him, if scruple (which is or­dinarily the pretence of mean spirits) should make him lose so fair an oc­casion to revenge himself. From these, he passed to other reflections; he doubted not, but it was Mada­moiselle de S. André, to whom his Note was directed; but his great trouble was to think who it should come from: He saw plainly by the appartment which they had chosen, that it was some person of quality who had good interest at Court; and the appartment of the Cardinal of Lorraine, cheif Minister of State (to whom he was a mortal Enemy) be­ing not far from the appointed Ren­dezvous, he could not but think sometimes it might be he. The first voice that he heard, was Madamoi­selle de S. Andrés, with that he was no much suprised, but not long after, he heard another that startled him exceedingly.

Francis the Second, though young, had eyes like other men; and the Charms of Madamoiselle de S. André had not escaped them: It was he who had given order that Madamoiselle de S. André should be there, and committed it to Madam de la Noûe to give her notice; and she had caused that Note to be writ­ten by one of her Maids, so expert in the profession of her Mistress, that her ingenuity was recompenced afterwards with a Priory of 5 or 6000 livers per annum.

The Prince displayed in this man­ner under the Bed, diverted himself very ill, and had put by the Bed-cloaths towards the Head, to give himself more air, and that he might the better understand what his Gal­lants would say when they met; but he quickly pulled them down again, when he heard the Kings voice; and great terrors were upon him, for fear he should be discover­ed. [Page 23]It was supected, that he would, by force, endeavor to possess himself of the Government, and herhaps that suspicion was but just: Had he been found concealed so near the Person of the King, at so unseason­able an hour, with his Sword out of his Belt, his Enemies would have misinterpreted his design, and of an amorous intrigue, have made a ca­pital offence: To which, the Note which he had taken up, would not have added a little. By that it would have appeared, that he knew where the King was to be at that time alone, and without defence; and the Guises, to whom he gave great jealousie, would not have failed to have said, that it was a place very proper to execute the worst designs that he had.

These considerations running in his mind, his discretion began to appear in the releif of his Love; but it was something too late. He [Page 24]repented that he had so rashly in­gaged himself in an affair, that, for ought he knew, might have very ill consequences; and whilest he was under this confusion, the King and Madamoiselle were undressed, and had doubtless given very good testi­mony of the love they had one for the other, had they not been inter­rupted by an alarm that obliged them to put off their expressions till another time.

The Queen Mary was three moneths gone with child; she was of a very tender Complexion, and the exercise which she had used in that days hunting, had disordered her much, to the affliction of all those who were pleased she was breeding. The noise of her pains, quickly went thorow the Louvre; the Valet de Chamber who was in waiting that night, and had the honor to be intrusted with the Kings amors, came immediately to give [Page 25]him notice. The King was half un­dressed, and being angry to have lost so fair an occasion, was much troubled at the condition of the Queen; but for fear of being sur­prised with Madamoiselle de S. An­dré, it was necessary (against all common practice) to leave the Mi­stress for the Wife; and lay aside the transports of a Lover, to show the complacency of a Husband.

The Queen miscarried, for which, some were glad, and others were sorry; for the Court was divided.

This accident, that bred an uni­versal disorder in the rest of the Louvre, was a great calm to the mind of the Prince. They had no sooner advertised his Majesty of the condition of the Queen, but he re­tired with all diligence into his ap­partment, and Madamoiselle de S. André into hers; whether she was attended by the officious Matron Madam de la Noûe, who took no [Page 26]care of locking the Door after her, as a thing of little importance.

The Prince being left in this manner Master of the Field, was not long in making his way out; protesting never to run himself into the like danger again, at least, whilest he had the use of his Rea­son. Passing thorow an Entry to­wards the Kings Antichamber, he met his Majesty as he was going to the Queens appartment; the King asked him what he did in the Louvre so late with so much care up­on his countenance. He had a ready wit, and answered him presently, That he came from play; that he had lost a considerable sum of Money; and, that the news of the Queens indisposition having been used as a pretence to give off, by the persons with whom he was at play, he was going home to his Lodgings in the disorder his Majesty observed. It was happy for him, the [Page 27]King questioned him no farther; had he staid above never so little longer, he had been certainly un­done. Dandelot in pursuance of his promise, had commanded some of his Soldiers to be upon the Guard, who, upon the noise which was oc­casioned by the Queens indispositi­on, ran to the releif of the Prince, and were already upon the Stairs; when his name being much in their Mouths, his presence caused them very seasonably to be silent. He went immediately out of the Louvre in the company of Dandelot, to whom he promised to meet about ten of the clock, at the Lodgings of his Brother, the Admiral of Coligny; where if he met him, he would im­part a secret to him, that he would not be at all troubled to hear.

His impatience to see the Admiral, was too great to fail at the appointed hour: Dandelot was a great lover of Secreta, and had prevented him. [Page 28] Ah! dear Cosin, cryed the Prince, when he came near the Admiral, Be­hold the Man in the World, under the greatest astonishment! all that I have seen hitherto in my life, is no­thing to what I am going to tell you: In a word, it is a thing so incredible, that when I have told you, if you do not believe me, I shall pardon you. S. An­dré (I mean not the Mareschals Lady, for I believe her much wiser) but the Queens Maid of Honor, is of so tryed and tractable a vertue, that the Prince de Joinville, if he marries her, can teach her nothing that is new. But this is not that (said he) that is so strange, She is fair, she is among the great People, where example gives some kind of Authority; she is not full sixteen years of age, about which time, the honor of young Ladies begin to totter: Few there are that can hold out continent so long, and common sence will not suffer us to be amazed at any thing that Custome has made [Page 29]familiar. But Cosin, this is it that will surprise you, you will never be able to guess at the Gallant. Run over the whole Court, cast your eyes upon all the Gallants in the Town, you shall name fifty, and I will lay you a wager you miss him. This circumstantial description that he gave of Madamoi­selle de S. Andrés Gallant, made them that they could not fix it upon any of that sort at Court; but the Admiral and his Brother began to imagine it some old venerable Abbot, whose love was not so pleasant as profitable: For the young Lady was rich only in her Beauty, and therefore they named the Cardinal of Tournon, Bertrandi (who had been Keeper of the Seals,) the Chancellor Oliver, the Seigneur de Pybrac, and some others of that sort. No (said the Prince) if you consider his quality, he is above all these, but if you consider his gallantry, he is much beneath them. Madamoiselle de S. André is beloved by the King, [Page 30]of which, the last night I had like to have had an incontestable evidence. Then he gave them an account of all that had hapned, and shewed them the Note which had given him so strange an alarm. This Note was of mighty use to their design; they had thoughts of breaking the Ʋnion that was be­twixt the Mareschal de S. André, and the Duke of Guise, and the most in­fallible way to succeed, was to ruine the reputation of Madamoiselle de S. An­dré, and make the Prince de Joinville to desert her.

Dandelot, being perswaded that Madam l'Admiral had more cunning and malice, then all three of them put together, was of opinion, that she should be consulted. She was so true a Hugenot, and had so great zeal of the honor of her Religion, that for the service of God, there was no injustice in the World, that she would have scrupled to com­mit; they sent to her to come to [Page 31]them, but she was at Prayers be­hind her Bed, and could not come immediately: As soon as she had done, she appeared, and the Prince having told her what he had told before to her Husband, he would have shown her the Note, but she would not by any means. It will be enough (said she to him) to de­stroy the reputation of S. André, if you please but to read it to me. After dinner I will take an opportunity to show it to the Queen, and swear a thousand horrible oaths that I never so much as read it: If I should read it my self, I could not swear with that freedom, for I would not wound my Conscience for a Kingdom.

The Admiral liked the expedient very well: Dandelot not only ad­mired the wit of his Sister in Law, but applauded her probity: The Prince who hated Madamoiselle de S. André, as much as he had formerly loved her, and desired to revenge [Page 32]himself of the affront (as he thought) which she had done him, in loving the King, delivered his Note to Madam l'Admiral, who pro­mised to make good use of it. The Afternoon was long a coming, at least, in the opinion of Madam l'Ad­miral. She was that day at the Louvre in very good time, and for­got not the Billet which the Prince of Condé had given her. The young Queen was not allowed to see any body, by reason of what she had endured the night before; and be­cause the King contented himself with his title, without doing the drudgery; people did not address so solemnly to him, as to the Queen-Mother. Whilest the Queen was at dinner, three young Virgins were presented to her, the Daughters of a Primiere Presidente of the Parlia­ment of Roûen, which the said Pre­sident had brought forth at a Birth. They were all very fair, and so ex­actly [Page 33]alike, not only in the features of their face; but in their shape, hair, gestures, and voice, that they were forced to put them into several habits to distinguish them.

The whole Court was in the Queens Chamber, admiring the strange resemblance of these three Children, when Madam l'Admiral came in, she was so taken (as the rest were) with the extraordi­nariness of the thing, that she forgot (at least, for sometime) her designs against Madamoiselle de S. André. Looking upon the young Maidens with too much intention, she drew something out of her Pocket, and had the same misfortune which the Lady had, whom she was to de­stroy.

The Note wherewith the Prince had intrusted her, fell out of her Pocket, and she never perceived it. The Prince de Joinville being next her, and seeing it fall, cast his Hand­kercheif [Page 34]upon it very neatly, and, without much trouble, took them up together. He was as impatient to be peeping, as the Prince of Condé had been the night before: He stole out of the Louvre, read it, and was infinitely surprised to find Madam l'Admiral (who had formerly been very handsome, but not young these nine or ten years) should have a rendezvous of this nature; for he did not hesitate one moment to be­lieve, that it was she to whom the Ticket was addressed.

The three young Virgins of Roûen, having taken their leaves of the Queen, Madam l'Admiral be­gan to remember her self of the de­sign that brought her to the Louvre, and that she had a fair opportunity to put it in execution. She felt for her Ticket, but it was not to be found; she felt and felt for it with great diligence, but to no purpose: She was so cruelly disturbed at the [Page 35]loss of it, that foreseeing, it would be impossible to conceal it, she went home to her Lodgings, where, with meer vexation, she fell sick all that day, and had, perhaps, been so long­er, had not the same thing cured, that wounded her, as the conse­quence will discover.

Whilest she was complaining of the Heavens, that they had not per­mitted her to accomplish her mis­chievous designs: The Prince de Joinville, who knew her Father the Duke of Guise, suffered nothing to pass, that might do the Admiral a prejudice, carried him the Billet, which he was sure would be very welcome. The Duke asked his Son if he did not mistake, and if he was fure that the Note belonged to Madam l'Admiral? The Prince de Joinville having assured him, that nothing was more certain; they went together to the Cardinal of Lorraine, who was in the company [Page 36]of the Mareschal de S. André, draw­ing up the Articles of Marriage (which was to be consummated in few days) that they might be carried next morning to the King, and the two Queens, who would do them the honor to sign them.

This Cardinal was a very danger­ous Enemy. When he found oppor­tunity to destroy any Man that he hated, he never neglected it: And finding himself now, as he thought, Master of the Reputation of Madam l'Admiral (whom he called The sworn Enemy of the Church,) he be­lieved he should have betrayed the Office of a Cardinal, if he had de­ferred her ruine but one moment. The Duke of Guise, and the Mares­chal de S. André, applauded his Eminences sentiment, as very Re­ligious, and altogether recommend­ed it to the Prince de Joinville to be silent, especially (said the Cardinal) to your Mistress; and if you have [Page 37]not power to contain, forbear rather to see her: She is young, and a Woman; both of which are incompatible with a secret. The Prince de Joinville promised what they desired, and was as good as his word.

During the time that this unfor­tunate Ticket went from one Enemy to another, giving as much vexati­on to the Colignies, as it did plea­sure to the Guises: The King being willing to recover what he lost the night before by the Queens indispo­sition, gave order to Madam de la Noûe (who was always ready at his Majesties service) to renew the bar­gain that was interrupted, and cause his Mistress to meet him again at the old Rendezvous, as soon as the clock should strike twelve.

The Cardinal of Lorraine (who knew that Queen Catherine had a mortal hatred for Madam l'Admiral, as one who had been always inti­mate [Page 38]with the Dutchess of Valenti­nois, the Mistress of Henry the Se­cond, went to wait upon her, de­sired, that he might have the honor to speak with her in her Closet, and there to shew her the Billet which the Prince de Joinville his Nephew had so dexterously taken up. Ah! insatiable (cried the Queen, when she had read it her self) whilest she was young, it was no wonder she was court­ed by the Mareschal Strossy, and I never condemned her. Every one knows Madam (replied the Cardinal) that youth will not last always, and your Majesty was always too discreet to oppose your self against any thing that is permitted; for Courtship is permit­ted or forbidden according to the dif­ferent times, in which they are pra­ctised. In the time of the late King, the vertuous Ladies of the Court had each of them some honest Gentleman, or other, with whom they carried on that commerce of Gallantry; and this [Page 39]the old Ladies did as well as the young, when their beauty began to de­cay, or they had means to supply the want of it, by their bounty to their Court-Lovers, who perhaps had no other Revenue but their bonne mine. But under the Government of your Majesty (to whom the State is so in­finitely obliged for your care and soli­citousness to reform it) it would be indecent to suffer this licentiousness, and leave the obscenities of Madam l'Admiral, or the profanation of the place unpunished. I am not the only person Madam (continued the Car­dinal) who looks with indignation up­on the insolence which she would com­mit in a place where Mediocrity of re­spect is a kind of a crime. My Bro­ther of Guise (and you know Madam, how dear your Majesties honor is to him; and whether Heaven it self can produce a Man with greater zeal then that which he has for your interest.) My Brother of Guise (I say) and [Page 40]the Mareschal de S. André (the next person to my Brother for his devotion to your Majesty, in your whole King­dom) are infinitely scandalised at this impudence; and do attend what your Majesty shall please to command them. The Queen when she had given the Cardinal freedom to speak what he pleased, replied, That she was of his judgment; that this insolence was too criminal to pass unpunished, and asked him, what expedient he could think of, to convince the Admirals Lady of a crime which would be so easie for her to deny. I beg your Majesties pardon (replied the Cardinal) if I sully your imagi­nation with a figure that may perhaps intrench upon your modesty: I know what you will suffer, to hear me say it is impossible to convict her, unless she be taken in the act: But there are few terms to express any thing that is im­pure, that do not carry something of immodesty along with them; and the [Page 41]blush that rises already in your Ma­jesties face, gives no little lustre to your Majesties vertue. At length the Queen consented absolutely to what the Cardinal desired: She had an old pique to Madam l'Admiral, which she was very glad to satisfie so easily. And though her authority over the Kings mind was very great, yet because he was natural­ly wavering and inconstant: The Cardinal begged of her Majesty, that she would preserve it as a secret from him, telling her, that her sin­gle advice was sufficient to warrant what they intended to do.

Twelve a clock came, and several people were waiting, upon several designs. The Queen could not think of sleeping, till she had had the pleasure of understanding the confusion of the Admirals Lady, and who was her Gallant. She had seen the Prince de Joinville after the Cardinal of Lorraine went away, [Page 42]and he had with a great deal of readiness obliged himself to give her an account of whatever hapned in that business; the Queen com­manded him to be punctual, and promised to sit up till he came. She imployed her self, in the mean time, in reading, and had kept only two of the Ladies of her Bed-chamber with her, her Maids of Honor be­ing gone to their Chambers as soon as the clock struck twelve, as was the usual custome: And Madam de la Noûe having advertised Mada­moiselle de S. André of the hour which the King had appointed, she bad her companions good night, and for fashion-sake entring into her own Lodgings, stole out again pre­sently after to go into the Chamber of the Metamorphoses, where she staid not long before the King came in.

The hearts of the Guises, and the Mareschal de S. André, were too [Page 43]streight to contain the joy that they conceived; they staid at Supper the Duke of Montpensier, and the Prince de la Roche-sur-Yon, and promised them such a treat as they could not expect. Twelve a clock struck, and they heard nothing of the treat; the Princes called for it, but were desired to be patient, and to be­lieve, that if they waited three nights together, it would be well worth their attendance when it came. The Rendezvous this night was appointed precisely at twelve a clock; but that which was appoint­ed in the Note, which Madam l'Ad­miral had lost, was not till one; and the Duke of Guise, the Mares­chal de S. André, and the Prince de Joinville (who thought themselves highly ingaged to their fortune, which had presented them with an occasion of disgracing the most dan­gerous of their Enemies) would have believed themselves guilty of [Page 44]an irrepairable fault, if they had been deficient in any thing that might have hastned his ruine. The Duke of Guise had placed a Spie, where it was impossible any body should enter into the Room of the Metamorphoses, without being per­ceived: The Duke was assured of his fidelity, and told him, That a Gallant had appointed a Rendez­vous to his Mistress in that place, but he told him not any thing who they were. He promised him great rewards, and conjured him to ob­serve very diligently, and not to stir till he sent him word by a per­son, who for a signal should demand the Diamond that he had left with him. The Spie wanted no wit, and understood well enough that the imployment which was given him, was one of the ways by which peo­ple were advanced most easily at Court; he promised the Duke to be punctual in all that he desired. [Page 45]Things being in this posture, the the clock struck one. The Mares­chal de S. André perswaded the Duke, that men did not meet al­ways exactly at the hour appointed; that their design would infallibly miscarry, if it should be their ill fortune to execute it but one mo­ment too soon; and therefore ad­vised him to protract another half hour, and they should surprise the Admirals Lady in the height of her delight. About half an hour past one, a person was sent to the Scout, to demand the Diamond which the Duke left with him, which was the signal, upon which word was to be sent, whether the lovers were come, or not. The Scout replied, That they were come long since, and the Messenger ran immediately with the news to the Duke of Guise.

COme Gentlemen, the hour of your entertainment is now come, said the Mareschal de S. André, to the Duke de Montpensier, and the Prince de la Roche-sur-Yon; it has been long a coming it is true, but it is well worth your attendance; and if ever you had occasion to laugh heartily in your whole lives, I dare promise it will be present­ly: For my own part (said he, with a torrent of joy that endeavored to expand it self) I must tell you, I would not change the pleasure of this night, for the best days pleasure in my whole life: And if ever I had any true delight, it is that which I am now going to receive, and you to be my wit­nesses.

To give them a taste of it before hand, he told them in few words what it was; the secret being no longer of consequence, seeing the execution was so near; whereupon [Page 47]he shewed them the Note which fell into the hands of the Prince de Joinville (who by way of intimacy, he called already his Son in Law, because his Marriage with the said Mareschals Daughter, as I have said before, was to be consummate in a few days.)

The Duke of Montpensier, and the Prince de la Roche-sur-Yon, be­ing young Gentlemen, and lovers of diversion, were highly transport­ed to be ingaged in such an adven­ture; proposed infinite satisfaction to themselves in seeing and obser­ving the looks of Madam l'Admiral in so mortifying a conjuncture, and in discovering her Gallant. The Duke of Guise, the Mareschal de S. André, and the Prince de Joinville took each of them a Lamp in their hands, and followed by the two Princes (whom they had un­dertaken to treat) they stole as soft­ly as they could to the door of the [Page 48]Chamber of the Metamorphoses. The Cardinal of Lorraine knew a great part of the revenge would consist in his being present, when Madam l'Admiral was surprised, but his Character would not permit him to bear them company. They listned for some time at the door, but heard nothing; the Duke of Guise scratch­ed a little, and a Groom of the Chamber, who was left there, and supposed it to be Madam de la Noûe, coming according to her custome to fetch Madamoiselle de S. André at a certain hour to her Chamber, he opened the door. The Duke of Guise told him, That he understood very well what was in agitation, and was privy to the secret: The Valet apprehending the Duke might have some business of importance with his Majesty, suffered him to enter, and all his retinue.

The Mareschal de S. André, be­ing least scrupulous, was the first [Page 49]who advanced to the Bed side, and stood still as amazed and immove­able when he saw the King on one side, and on the other his Daugh­ter, looking better then he had ever seen her in his life. By reason of the warmth of the weather, her arms were out of Bed, her neck naked, and her little new swelling brests so white, and represented the pretty red nipples, wherewith Na­ture had embellished them so hand­fomely, that it was impossible to see any thing more tender and be­witching.

This surprise in the Mareschal, caused the Duke of Guise to come forward, and after him the Prince de Joinville, and the two Princes of the House of Bourbon, in their turns. All of them were strangely astonish­ed to see the King on one side of the Bed, and Madamoiselle de S. André on the other, both of them asleep with the same quiet and security, as [Page 50]if they had been Man and Wife: But though the astonishment was universal, it was in a different man­ner. The Father, Father in Law, and Lover, were in great consterna­tion; but the Duke of Montpensier, and the Prince de la Roche-sur-Yon, finding their entertainment much pleasanter then was promised, were forced to take all imaginable pains to keep themselves from laughing right out; and indeed it was well for the Mareschal, that his Daugh­ters Brests were so naked to take up their thoughts; otherwise, the con­fusion in which he was, would have made any man laugh, though he had been never so serious.

Whilest some of them were mor­tally troubled, and the rest so well pleased, that it is not easie to be ex­pressed: The light glaring upon the eyes of Madamoiselle de S. An­dré, awakened her; she rubbed them a while, opened them when [Page 51]she had done; and the first thing she looked upon, being her Father, she fetched a skreek that wakned the King; and I do not doubt, but he was as much surprised, as other peo­ple; but his surprise being over, his love inspired him with more wit, and more courage then he had ever discovered before. Having endea­vored to encourage and comfort Madamoiselle de S. André (who was weeping) by promising to take her into his protection; he demanded of the Duke of Guise, and the rest that were with him, by what au­thority they durst presume to enter, at such an hour, into a place where they knew he was taking his repose. The Mareschal de S. André made an­swer, That had they known his Majesty had been there, they would not have presumed to interrupt him; and that for his own part, he expected nothing less then what he had found: That it was he who [Page 52]had staid the Duke of Monpensier, and the Prince de la Roche-sur-Yon, to give them a divertisement, in which he little thought his Daugh­ter should have born apart. That could he have presaged, or been as­sured of the honor his Majesty con­ferred upon his family, he should have had more discretion and re­spect, then to have brought so many witnesses; and having said so, he withdrew.

The King perceiving the presence of so many Princes, and especially the Prince de Joinville, was a great trouble to Madamoiselle de S. André, he commanded them to retire, and they obeyed his command. When they were gone, he applied what consolation he could, and perhaps better then he could do in the pre­sence of her Father. He called for the Groom of his Chamber, by whose indiscretion they were let in; but the Kings anger, and the Ma­damoiselles [Page 53]tears having given him to understand the fault that he had committed, he was afraid of being punished, and had made his escape: But the Governness, Madam de la Noûe coming in, in the nick, she lighted the King to his Chamber, and when she had done, came back to do as much for the Madamoi­selle.

The Queen Mother (to whom the Prince de Joinville had promised to give an account of all that he should see) was naturally impatient; and the clock having struck two, and no news of her Prince, she fent to look him, by one of her Maids of Honor, in the appartment of his Uncle the Cardinal; he came to wait upon her with a countenance as chearful as the nature of the ad­venture would permit. Prince de Joinville (said her Majesty to him, as soon as he was near her) I do not ask after the greatness of her confusion, [Page 54]or whether Madam l'Admiral is not almost distracted: I do not doubt but she is highly sensible of the affront, and will move Heaven and Earth to be re­venged: I pass all that by, and only desire to know who was her Gallant. What is he? Is he young? Is he hand­some? Is he of any considerable qua­lity? How did the Lady like him? Tell me, in short, and give me a true description, especially how he looked and behaved himself when he was taken. What interrogatories were these for the Prince de Joinville, who was most desperately in love with Ma­damoiselle de S. Andre? He replied (with a discomposure that was in­deed to be excused) That the Gallant her Majesty desired should be de­scribed, was very young: That as to his person, those who delighted not in tall, lusty men, would think him handsome enough; and for his quality, he must needs say it was very considerable: That the Lady, was doubtlesty, very [Page 55]well pleased, and would be much en­vied by the rest, when her good for­tune was known: That as to his de­portment and looks, when he was taken, it was something more fierce then at other times; and that instead of being terrified himself, he made his specta­tors to tremble. This Madam is a relation which your Majesty has com­manded me to give; let me beg of you to inquire no farther. To morrow your Ears will be clogged with what I for­bear to tell you; and if your Majesty understood with what regret and aver­sion I have gone thus far, you would admire my patience.

The Queen thought he had been ill, and suffered him to retire; he returned into his Uncles appart­ment, and found him storming like mad. The Duke of Montpensier, and the Prince de la Roche-sur-Yon, were got by themselves, to laugh and make sport at the afflictions of the rest; the only trouble they had, [Page 56]was to think all the World was in Bed, and they were forced to stay till next morning, before they could publish what they knew.

They went late to Bed, but got up very early, being impatient to let the Prince of Condé know upon what account the Guises, and the Mareschal de S. André, had detained them at Supper, and the end and Catastrophe of their design.

Though the Prince of Condé, and they, were of two contrary Religi­ons, and even of contrary parties; yet they had great esteem for one another, especially the Prince de la Roche-sur-Yon, and the Duke de Montpensier, for the Prince of Condé, upon whom they looked, as upon the bravest man of his time. The joy wherewith the Prince of Condé understood the confusion of the Guises, revenged him in some mea­sure, for the troubles which the loss of the Billet had given him before. [Page 57]Nothing could be more pleasant, then to imagine the pains which they had occasioned, by their own conduct and eager prosecution of that intrigue, and by the detention of two persons of their quality, to give them such an extraordinary re­gale. The Prince of Conde liked the divertisement too well to in­gross it to himself: He would have been very unwilling the Admiral should have had it from any body but him; and therefore fearing he might be too late, that some other person might prevent him; and that his information should not be the first, he repaired to his Lodg­ings with all diligence. The Admiral was no sooner acquainted there­with, but he ran immediately into his Wives Chamber; she had been ill all night of the loss of her Billet, and was to be let blood that morn­ing: But the tidings which the Ad­miral brought her, saved her Chi­rurgeon [Page 58]a labor, and made a speedier cure then phlebotomy would have done. Sick, or not sick, Madam l'Admiral got up, called for her Coach, told it to every body she met, and they being as liberal of it as she, in a very short time the news was known all over the Town. The Kingdom, at that time, was under great agitation, by reason of the differences betwixt the Catholicks, and the Hugonots, who under pre­tence of Reformation, did exceed­ingly rend and distract it. There were some persons who that morn­ing had made a Song of the state of the Kings affairs, and were singing it (but very low) as his Majesty was rising; it was set to the tune of a Ballad that was then in mighty re­quest, and the words were these.

What is commonly sung about the streets, or once put into a Song, [Page 60]ceases to be a Secret; nor was it long before the Queen was better informed of what the Prince de Joinville gave her but an imperfect relation. Madamoiselle de S. André, had been always constant in her at­tendance before, and not daring to appear that morning, she confirmed what began to be publick. The Queen sent for her, but the Kings Physitian (called Miron) was with Madamoiselle de S. André, and had orders to say, That she was ill; which at another time would have been a lawful excuse; but as things then stood, it was rather an argu­ment of her guilt; and her Majesty (who was not easily deluded) guest unhappily at the truth. She was highly incensed, and could not con­strain her self; she sent to desire the King to come to her, the King came, and they went together into her Closset, where she began to reprove him severely, and in a tone that [Page 61]might have made him tremble: But the King being prepared by his Love and his Mistress, interrupted her at the very first volley, and that with an assurance and confi­dence beyond her expectation. He told her, it was true indeed, he had a kindness for the person she named, and he desired she would give him leave to entertain himself with her, or else surrender his authority, that he might imploy himself otherwise: He remembred the Queen, that her power was of no longer duration then he pleased; that if she crossed him in his love, he would not in­dulge her in her ambition; and that (without violence to the re­spect which he ought her, as a Mo­ther) when ever he did but say he would be King, she must cease to be Queen.

These words she had reason to believe were none of her Sons; yet seeing Madamoiselle de S. André [Page 62]spake them by his mouth, she had as much reason to be astonished, as if they had been his own. She durst not pursue the expostulation, nor drive the business any farther, least Madamoiselle de S. André should furnish him with another answer. The King was mistaken to think that the Queen had a design to hin­der his divertisements; on the con­trary, her thoughts were taken up, how she might entertain him perpe­tually; and had Madamoiselle de S. André been only handsome, the Queen had been the first that would have recommended her, and ap­plauded his choice: But Madamoi­selle de S. André had Wit as well as Beauty; and a Head that was suffi­cient to keep the Queen-Mother upon her guard; for she apprehend­ed, that when Madamoiselle came once to be Mistress of the Kings heart, she would make him sensible, how much he was abused. Upon [Page 63]which consideration, all was accom­modated before they parted; the King kept his Mistress, and the Mother the Government.

The Duke of Guise could not forget the great favors which he had received of their Majesties; and his gratitude was such, that he would not suffer his Son to intrench upon the respect which he ought to the King so far, as to continue his rival. The Articles of Marriage which the Cardinal of Lorraine, and the Mareschal de S. André had drawn up, were cancelled and torn, and the Government of Lions (that was then vacant) being conferred upon the Mareschal, every one was contented, or at least they pretend­ed it. Madamoiselle de S. Andre was looked upon as the Kings Mi­stress, and respected beyond what she was formerly; the Queen-Mo­ther was afraid of her, and though she could not behold her without [Page 64]indignation, yet she thought it dis­cretion to conceal it; and Queen Mary, if any troubles were upon her on that account (as it is proba­ble there were) she also kept them to her self.

The Prince of Condé observing all parties so well contented, was much discontented himself, and being un­able to prevail with Madamoiselle de S. André to love him, he resolved she should hate him. He watched his opportunity when the King was absent, made her a visit in her ap­partment, and complemented her slily upon her late advancement: She took it for an affront, as she had reason, and answered him very quick and loud, That that was one of the Reasons which had kept her from admitting his passion; for she had considered, and thought it more honorable to be a Kings Mi­stress, then Mistress to a younger Brother of the House of Bourbon, [Page 65]who had nothing to trust to, but his Sword. And Madamoiselle or Madam ( for now I know not by which of them to call you, replied the Prince) I loved you too well to let your great honor be lost in obscurity: It is to your own Charms you were in­debted for your dignity, but it was to me you were beholding for the discove­ry. I could not endure you should be any longer deprived of those respects, which that great happiness would pro­cure you; had it not been for me (who took inconceivable pains to be satis­fied of the truth) the World had been still ignorant of your preferment, it is to me you are indebted for the first pub­lication: And so far was he trans­ported with severity, that least she should not yet understand what he meant, he told her in express terms, That at her return from S. Cloud, it was he who had found the Note that she had dropped; that at one a clock at night, he had conveyed [Page 66]himself into her Alcove, and been a spectator of the joy and alacrity, wherewith she undressed her self, when as ill luck would have it, all her hopes were defeated by the in­disposition of the Queen. In short, he omitted nothing that he thought might provoke her to hate him, and he succeeded so well, that from that time she hated him mortally.

The Prince made Courtship els­where, and Madamoiselle de S. An­dré kept to her King, and did very well. The first visit the King made her, she made her complaints of the Prince of Condé, and represented his deportment so hainous, that the King could not but be so far sensible, as to espouse her quarrel, and re­venge it. Whilest they were imploy­ed in searching an opportunity, th [...] Prince made new addresses to an­other of the Maids of Honor called Madamoiselle de Limevil, a young Lady not altogether so beautiful as [Page 67]Madamoiselle de S. André, but kinder and less proud: And indeed he ap­plied himself so effectually to her, that he arrived at that which is the end of most Courtship. She had by him a Son, which was born under the Reign of Charles the Nineth, the twenty fifth of May, One thousand five hundred sixty one, and in the very Louvre; but the Queen, who at that time had need of the Prince of Condé to balance the power of the house of Guise, that was grown too haughty, connived at her frail­ty.

The inclination which the Prince had to Madamoiselle de Limevil last­ed not long, but rather because the affairs of State had changed their face, then any disgust that she gave him. In the mean time, the King was highly offended at his behavior with Madamoiselle de S. André; had sworn his ruine, and that he might be as good as his word, he sided [Page 68]with the Guises: The Prince was called but very seldom to Council, though in Justice he was to have been the first in rank, yet he found the Guises set before him, by the Kings express order, and the same contempt that inhanced the hearts of his enemies, troubled him exceed­ingly.

The Heresie which Luther had diffused all over Europe, had from the days of Francis the First, and Henry the Second, infected France in sundry places; and the Hugo­nots being stronger and more nume­rous then formerly, began to think of revenging the cruelties that had been exercised towards them; and their desire was to commence with the Guises, as well for the interest of their Religion (to which the Guises were professed Enemies) as for the benefit of the State, of which, out of animosity they had already pronounced them Subver­ters; [Page 69]they wanted only a head as valiant as the Prince of Condé, and it is possible he would have accept­ed it, if the conspiracy d'Amboise had succeeded. To justifie their designs, Libels were spred abroad, and it was said the Prince of Condé (who had a great deal of wit) was Author of them himself. They Re­monstrated that by the Laws of that Kingdom, neither Women nor Strangers were to be admitted to the cheif Ministery, and many ex­amples they cited to show, that the Administration of Cardinals was al­ways fatal to France.

These Libels were highly offen­sive to the Guises, and above all, to the Cardinal of Lorraine; either because his Ministery justified the examples which were alleaged, or because his Enemies Reasons were strong enough to justifie the truth of what they published. He suspect­ed a Counsellor of the Parliament of [Page 70] Paris, called du Burg (a person of singular merit and vertue:) This du Burg had been a prisoner a com­pleat twelve moneth, only for pro­fessing himself a Lutheran (for in those days nothing was more crimi­nal) and if all those who died for Religion, had taken the right side, the antient Romans would have had fewer Martyrs, then the Reigns of Francis the Second, and Charles the Nineth. Least de Burg should make worser discoveries, then those which they imputed to him wrongfully al­ready, order was given to his Judges (who in respect of his great parts, were inclined to give him longer time to confess) to condemn him with as much speed as could consist with the glory of God, which was exactly performed to the great satis­faction of the Cardinal of Lorraine. The poor Gentleman took his death with extraordinary constancy; his countenance was quiet and com­posed; [Page 71]he exhorted such of his per­swasion, as were present at his exe­cution, to lay down their lives as freely (if there were occasion) as he; assuring them, that Death was the happiest thing in the World, when Men suffered in so excellent a Cause. His words made a deep im­pression in the hearts of those who had already imbibed that new opi­nion; and they believed their Re­ligion infinitely the better, because a person of his wisdom and perspi­cacity, had chose to die rather then to entertain any other.

Du Burgs death begot great ani­mosity in that Kingdom: The Hu­gonots first design was to have re­venged it by force; but the fear they had of being too weak, made them take new measures, and change their resolution: Some would have it, that they intended no farther then the Guises, others were of opi­nion, their design would have gone [Page 72]farther, if it had succeeded. Be it how it will, their conspiracy which makes so much noise in our History, and passes under the name of the Conspiracy d'Ambois, was discover­ed. Renaudie, a Gentleman of Pe­rigord (a great Lutheran, and great­er incendiary) imparted it to an Advocate of his acquaintance; the Advocate to a Master of Requests, called Vouze; and Vouze (either ab­horring the design, or desirous to do a piece of service that might de­serve to be recompensed) discover­ed it to the Guises. Nothing was ever more horrid then the passages at Ambois for a whole week toge­ther: The blood ran down the Streets, and the Throats were cut of all such as were suspected to have conspired.

Madamoiselle de S. André who had as much influence upon the King as she could wish, and retained still an implacable enmity to the Prince of [Page 73] Condé, thought this a fair oppor­tunity to destroy him: She pro­mised pardon to two of the Conspi­rators, if they would accuse him of being the principal Agent: They accused him, and, with him, the Ad­miral and Dandelot: It is true, one part of their impeachment was right, and if that enterprise had succeeded, the Prince, Admiral, and Dandelot would have declared; but the poor people that accused him, knew nothing of that, and the King knowing as little of Madamoi­selles design, seemed notwithstand­ing to be of her Plot, for he promised them pardon (as she had ingaged) if they charged him effectually. But this promise gave her no little dis­quiet; she was afraid when these false witnesses were at liberty, that they would recant: She thought fit to consult her Father, the Mareschal de S. André, in the Case; told him what her hatred to the Prince had [Page 74]prompted her to do, and withal ac­quainted him with her apprehensi­on. The Mareschal hated the Prince of Condé, and his Daughter was too far engaged to retire; the Prince must be ruined, or she was undone: Though the King did her the honor to love her, and had promised her protection; yet it would have cost him no little trouble to have justified a crime of so important a nature. To leave these poor Creatures no possibility of betraying her, certain persons were sent to the prison, to which the Witnesses were carried back, who having taken them aside, slew them immediately, and they deserved it for their treachery.

The rupture of this marriage be­twixt the Prince de Joinville, and Madamoiselle de S. André, did no [...] interrupt the amity betwixt the Guises and the Mareschal; for they continued the best Friends in the World. In the mean time, the Guises [Page 75]gave orders for the arresting the Prince of Condé next morning; pro­ceeding with all possible vigor, up­on presumption, that he was really guilty, from the testimony of the two false witnesses which they had carefully examined, and were not a little joyed to find their evidence so clear: For as to the secret which Madamoiselle de S. André had com­municated to her Father, it was too tender and delicate to be intrusted to any body besides.

During all this confusion, the Ad­miral was at his house at Chastillon, where with impatience he expected the success of the conspiracy; and Dandelot coming to Ambois (where the Court was at that time) having met, upon the Road, with some of the Conspirators who were escaped, fled into Brittany, where his Lady had a very strong Castle. There was none of them at Court but the Prince of Condé, who continued [Page 76]there to support the enterprise as occasion was offered; in so much, as none was in such manifest danger as he; for he had undoubtedly lost his head, if he had been arrested: But about two of the clock in the morning, before the Duke of Guises orders were to be put in execution, one of his Valets de Chamber, sud­denly awaked him, and delivered him a Note, which he had just then received, with commands to deliver it immediately without considera­tion, whether he was awake or a sleep, for the Prince had never an affair that concerned him more near­ly. The Prince of Condé opened it, and found it from a Woman, but he could not imagine the hand; however, that which was in it per­mitted him to loose no time in ex­amining from whence it came. It contained only these few words,

The Prince was too sensible of his guilt, to deliberate what he had to do. He got up, and departed out of the Town with all possible diligence. The Guards at the Gates having yet no notice of what was resolved, were so far from obstruct­ing his passage, that they suffered him to pass with all the respect that was due to his quality. He retired to Orleans, where his reputation was great, his friends considerable, and ready to sacrifice themselves for his interest: He had not been long gone, before the Kings Guards in­vested his Lodgings, and were not a little troubled to find him escap­ed: His accusers were sent for, but both of them were murdered, and no account could be given by whose [Page 78]orders: The suspition was stronger against the Prince of Condé, then against Madamoiselle de S. André, and yet it was the Mareschal, not the Prince, who had caused them to be slain. Generally people are most jealous of the person accused, and the Court was of opinion, that the Prince inraged to see himself be­trayed, had revenged himself upon his accusers before he had fled. By the Kings order, Process was framed against him, which if he had been taken, would have certainly been finished; but finding him escaped, it was judged imprudent to carry things to extremity, and they rather chose to pretend ignorance of that conspiracy, then to give occasion for new.

This temper and moderation in their Politicks, did not at all accom­modate with the fury of Madamoi­selle de S. André she complained of it to the King, who acquainted her [Page 79]with the Reasons, upon which the Council had proceeded in that manner; and told her, That the ruine of the Prince was but defer­red, for he would never pardon him, or forget his insolence to her: Some few days after, the Court re­moved from Ambois to Orleans, where the States General were to meet. The Prince was departed from thence to the Admiral at Cha­stillon, and from thence to his Bro­ther, the King of Navarre, who was at that time in his Government in Guyenne. Passing by Chastillon, he shewed the Admiral the Note by which his life was preserved; the Admiral knew the hand, and assured him it came from the Mareschal de S. Andres Lady; but the Prince found so little probability in that, that he could not possibly believe it.

In the interim, the time approach­ed for the Convention of the Estates. [Page 80]All the Princes of the Blood, and all the great Officers of the Crown, were required to be present, upon pain of being degraded from their Dignities, and reputed accessories in the Conspiracy. The Admiral not believing himself accused, ap­peared at the place, but the King of Navarre (being less considerable at Court then the Guises) refused to be present; and the Prince of Condé (who had been practising in all the Towns thorow which he passed) was so far from obeying the Sum­mons, that he raised Men with the Moneys he received from the Hugo­nots to remove the Guises by force of Arms, which was concluded to be the only way, considering the difficulty of a Conjuration, where so many were to be intrusted; that it was hard but some of them would either be treacherous or im­prudent. The Caresses wherewith the Admiral was treated at Orleans, [Page 81]did easily perswade him, that he was not at all suspected, and that the Note sent to the Prince of Condé, was but an artifice of the Mareschal and the Guises, to remove him from Court, and render him suspect. He writ to the King of Navarre, and the Prince of Condé, and conjured them not to make themselves crimi­nal: He assured them, they would be gratiously received, and that their presence was necessary to ba­lance and correct the power of the Guises, which was like to be too potent, unless restrained by the pre­sence of the Princes of the Blood. These Letters not prevailing, he writ again, and sent them word, That it was by the Queens orders, who was grown weary (as well as the rest of the State) of the Domi­nion and Tyranny of the Guises; and least they should question the truth of his Letters, he sent them another, in which the Queen Mo­ther [Page 82]explained her self, under her own hand, and conjured them to rescue her from the oppressions of that family.

This Letter was effectual, and brought them to the Lure: The de­sire which they had to wrest the Government out of the hands of the Guises, made them forget that the Queen was the most dissembling Princess of her time. The King of Navarre would needs go, and (not­withstanding his repugnancy) press­ed the Prince of Condé so ear­nestly, that he was not able to deny him.

Madamoiselle de S. André (who had sworn never to pardon the Prince of Condé, for the dishonor which he had occasioned to her, and his insolent expressions there­upon) chose that moment wherein his Majesty was in his extasie of plea­sure, to beseech him (if he loved her as he pretended) to revenge and [Page 83]rid her of a person, whose very pre­sence was a secret reproach to her, which she was not able to bear. What can a Man refuse his Mistress at such a time? or rather, what will he not grant? The King need not have been in love, to have been blind; he was of an age incapable of reflections; he promised her the Prince should die; and would have promised her more, if she had de­sired it. As soon as the King of Navarre came to Orleans, he was al­lowed his Guards; but the Prince of Condé was arrested and put into custody: They revived his Process that had been laid aside; accused him to have had a principal hand in the conspiracy d'Ambois, and to have caused his accusers to be mur­dered, to conceal the evidence of his crime: The King and Madamoi­selle instructed his Judges; after which it was a hard matter to prove himself innocent. As often as they [Page 84]charged him with the murder of the Witnesses, he appeared strange­ly disturbed, and that disturbance was taken by those who were to judge him as a great argument of his guilt. They confronted him with one Sague, Secretary to the King of Navarre, whom either the fear of the Rack, or the hopes of a recom­pence had made to tell dangerous things. He was amazed to see that unhappy person (who had received great obligations from him) to hold intelligence with his Enemies, and endeavor his destruction; and this surprise was seconded by another far more incomprehensible. One of his Guards, and a Man who would at­tempt any thing for Money, gave him privately a Note that he had received from an unknown person, who had conjured him to deliver it into the Princes own hand: The Prince opened it, and found pre­sently by the character, that it came [Page 85]from the same person who had ad­vised him so seasonably to preserve himself at Ambois: He doubted not but now also she had something of great importance to advertise, and in that opinion he read it hastily, and found these words.

The poor Prince perceiving eve­ry body to insult upon his misery, had like to have lost all patience: He could not comprehend upon what reason the same person, who had advertised him so kindly before, to preserve himself, should trample upon him now unnecessarily in so sad a conjuncture. Either he thought he had never merited from her the least concern for his life, or else he [Page 87]believed he had deserved what she had done for him; and though per­haps he had not actually expressed himself in her service so far, as to oblige her to that favor; yet he had never done any thing to dis­please her, or provoke her to that insolence. However this way of proceeding was so different from her former, that he took the Letter (which he had thrown upon the Table) read it over again, and could not find one word in it, but of injury and reproach. He folded it, and unfolded it several times to see if there was no mystery; for standing as he did, accused of High Treason, it was dangerous to de­liver their advice too plainly, how favorably soever they might stand. He searched and examined so long, that at length he found what he looked for. This Letter to read it, as Letters are generally read, was without question, highly disob­liging; [Page 88]but to read it but half, that is after you have read the first line, to skip the second, then the fourth, then the sixth, and so on with the rest, it will be found in these terms.

There was great difference be­twixt these two Letters: The Prince owned himself infinitely ob­liged [Page 89]to the person who had writ it, for the share which she took in his misfortunes, and the hints that she gave him; and he was extreamly taken with her invention, to signifie her kindness so neatly, without ex­posing her self (for certainly had the Letter miscarried, and been brought to the King, it would ra­ther have advanced her, then crea­ted her any trouble.) Very impati­ent he was to know this Lady, to whom he was so prodigiously ob­liged, that he might at least make her see how sensible he was of her favors: He could not make himself believe it was Madam la Mareschal, as the Admiral had assured him; and the hatred that for a long time had been betwixt their two Fami­lies, was indeed sufficient to dis­swade him.

Whilest he was pondering with himself, and beating his brains to find out the Author of this Letter. [Page 90]His Judges came into his Chamber to interrogate him the last time; he denied very constantly, that he had any part in the conspiracy of Am­bois; maintained that his accusers had been suborned, and then mur­dered by his Enemies, least they should have recanted, and not per­severed in their testimony; but not one word of the Letter which he had received: And though he had been sure to have cleared himself by showing it in its natural sense, he would rather have chosen to die, then have been ungrateful to a per­son who had endeavored to pre­serve him with so much generosity. The Judges (whose integrity was not to be byassed by favor) could find nothing of clear evidence against the Prince; but those who were delegated by the King, and Madamoiselle de S. André, with in­struction to be sure to find him guil­ty (as if whatever they did for their [Page 91]own preferment would be just) al­ledged, that they had farther proof, and the number of them being greater then the other; they framed an Arrest against him (which the Chancellor de l'Hospital refused very wisely to sign) and ordered him to be beheaded at the same hour when the States entered into their House. But the King, Madamoiselle de S. André, nor the Judges, who had been very busie in procuring this Arrest, had not the pleasure to see it executed. The King fell ill, in the mean time, upon which, the Queen-Mother caused execution to be suspended; not so much in con­sideration of the Prince, as of her own particular interest. She had the sole Regency of the State, and doubted not, but if the King died, the face of affairs would alter, her other Children being in their mino­rity; which minority, being a great favorer of ambition, she feared that [Page 92]if the grandeur of the Guises re­mained without counterpoise, it would become as dangerous as the practices of the Princes of the Blood.

This providence of the Queen-Mother was not impertinent. The King died, and the authority of Madamoiselle de S. André died with him. To avoid the resentments of the Prince of Condé, and those of the Queen-Mother (who hated her mortally, for that she had wrought her self so cunningly into the affecti­ons of the King) Madamoiselle de S. André retired into a Nunnery at Long Champ. Francis the Second having no Children by Queen Mary of Scotland, the next of his Brothers, who was Duke of Anjou, succeed­ed him by the name of Charles the Ninth.

To dissipate the troubles which hindered Queen Catherine from the peaceable injoyment of her Regen­cy; [Page 93]she endeavored an accommo­dation betwixt the Princes of Bour­bon, and the House of Lorraine. Nei­ther party declined it, and the Treaties being well received both on the one side, and the other, all was composed, and the Prince of Condé discharged of his imprison­ment by an eminent Arrest of the Parliament.

I am telling a very true story, and yet it is almost incredible: The Prince of Condé was so naturally a­morous, that he fell in love even at the time that Sentence of Death was pronounced against him: I am of opinion, there is not an example of any Man that chose so improper a season as then: Whilest he was un­certain what would be the event of the Kings sickness, he reflected some­times upon the Letter which he had received, and found it so full of kindness, that it would have been a second death to him, to have died [Page 94]ingrateful. The desire which he had to know to whom he was so highly obliged; the desire he had to testifie his acknowledgments; and the de­light he took in his Obligation, were things which I call love, and effectu­ally they were so.

As soon as the Parliament had se­cured the honor of this Prince, his love thought it time to act for his interest. The Prince concealing no­thing from the Admiral, shewed him the Letter which was sent him in prison. The Admiral assured him again, that it was from Madam la Mareschal de S. André, and that he knew the hand perfectly well. If it be so (said the Prince) I love Madam la Mareschal de S. André; and all that you can say to divert me, shall not hinder me from loving her eternally. The hatred which was betwixt me and her Husband (and perhaps is still) is increased thereby: For the accommo­dation made by the Queen, is in truth [Page 95]but a palliated Peace; and besides, if my Reasons of State were not, my Rea­sons of Love are abundantly sufficient to make me hate him; if for nothing but being Husband to a Lady, for whom I have so great an affection. But to return to Madam la Mareschalle, since the animosity (said he) betwixt her Husband and me, hindered her not from making so generous efforts to oblige me: I must love her, and that love without question will last: It is founded on gratitude, which is a ver­tue to which I shall pretend as long as I live.

This Madam la Mareschalle was not own Mother to Madamoiselle de S. André. The Mareschal had mar­ried her Son three years since, and she was, at the most, but two and twenty years of age, if she was so much. She was not altogether so beautiful as her Daughter in Law, but she had beauty enough to cap­tivate any Man; and as nice as the [Page 96]Prince was, had wherewithal to make her self beloved by him, with­out the assistance of the favors which she had done him. The Ma­reschal de S. André was grown white, and the fatigues of the War, how great soever they had been, had contributed less to it, then five and fifty years, which he confessed (though his greyness spoke him at least sixty;) but an old man marri­ed to a young Lady makes always the best of his age, and will be sure to conceal something. The Prince of Condé was very young, as hand­some a person as belonged to the Court, and was besides of excellent parts. Madam la Mareschalle was not ignorant of it; for she also had her share, and upon the bare repu­tation of the Prince, had conceived so great an esteem for him, as gave her a concern for every thing that befel him. Her Husband (to com­fort her for that, of which his age [Page 97]had deprived her) had a strange kindness for her, which would have been altogether unuseful, had not she taken advantage of it to be ser­viceable to the Prince; he impart­ed to her all the transactions of State. It was from him, that she had understood, that the Prince was to be arrested, when she gave him ad­vice at two a clock in the Morning to escape from Ambois. It was he again, that was so weak to trust her with a secret, which his Daughter would not have committed to any body but him; and certainly it had been sufficient to ruine them both, had Madam la Mareschalle been as imprudent as her Husband.

The Prince was much disquieted with his new passion, and more so­licitous for his Mistress, then his life, though he knew not who she was, (for whatever the Admiral could say to assure him, he still doubted whe­ther it was Madam la Mareschalle, to [Page 98]whom he was so strictly obliged.) The Prince made a visit to the Ma­reschal de S. André, and expressed great satisfaction in the accommoda­tion which the Queen-Mother had made; but Madam la Mareschalle being abroad, the Prince was so troubled that the Mareschal de S. André perceiving it in his looks, imagined that he paid him that com­plement with regret, and that he was still his Enemy at the heart. His visit was but short, however he ex­cused it to the Mareschal as well as he could. he told him, that his re­solutions were, for the future, to live in perfect amity with him, and to visit him as oft as he had opportu­nity.

Madam la Mareschalle had been to wait upon the Queen, and came in just as the Prince was taking his leave of her Husband; so unex­pected a sight of him, put her to the blush. And the Prince, though [Page 99]not altogether so subject to blush, perceived something in himself, that he was not accustomed to feel, which privately suggested, that this was the Lady to whom he was so in­finitely obliged: He made her a short complement, but so perplex­ed and mysterious, that her Hus­band could make nothing of it, though she understood it perfectly, and was the more pleased with it, because it was not intelligible to all the World. She answered too in such a manner, as gave no jealousie to the Mareschal, and yet the Prince thought somethings of it very kind; not that it was effectually so, but he desired it should have been so, and men do easily believe what they do passionately desire. They part­ed, the Prince, and Madam la Ma­reschalle infinitely well pleased at their enterview, and the Mareschal himself at the same rate, neither [Page 100]better nor worse, then before the visit was made.

At night they met again at Court: Madam la Mareschalle was come thither to pay her devoir, and the Prince was come thither to see her. The Duke of Guise having some­thing to say to the Mareschal de S. André, took him aside, to the great satisfaction of the Prince of Condé, who was ambitious of nothing more then an opportunity of entertaining the Lady, which he had not con­fidence to attempt whilest her Hus­band was present. Madam la Ma­reschalle, who cast her eyes every moment upon the Prince, and was still encountred with the same glan­ces from him; thought she should not offend him, if she gave him a small opportunity to accost her; and that he might do it with more ease, and she have occasion to quit the Ladies, with whom she was in [Page 101]some impertinent discourse, she pre­tended her Watch was down, and went to see what a clock it was at a little clock in the Queens Anti­chamber: This project succeeded as she desired. The Prince accosted her, and finding there was no body could hear him but herself. I do not know Madam (said he) whether this be the hour that you would have it: For my own part, I never expect to find one so favorable as to give me opportunity to testifie the Sentiments I have of your incomparable goodness; for since I am at liberty, I ought to be ashamed to have made no better use of a blessing that I have received whol­ly from you.

Madam la Mareschalle replied to the Princes civility, with as much modesty on her side, pretending she understood nothing of what he said. He explained himself; she had really an esteem for him, and perhaps what she thought nothing [Page 102]but esteem, was indeed something more then she imagined: However she owned it not positively, as un­willing to run a risk in a thing that might reflect upon her reputation, before she understood him better then at that time she did. Why Madam, said the Prince, is it possible I should be so unhappy, as to ow my life to any but your self? I believe (said Madam la Mareschal) it is to your own innocence you ow it, and to no body else; and (supposing that was not sufficient to absolve you) a prisoner of your birth, and accomlishments, hath greater priviledges then ordinary. These are my thoughts, but if you de­sire I should rather come over to yours, and believe it to some other person that you are obliged for your life, though it were to your greatest enemy, I do not see how you could call it an unhap­piness. It is one Madam (replied the Prince) and so much the greater, because I proposed no happiness equal [Page 103]to my being obliged to you: It would have perswaded me, I had not been al­together indifferent to you, and the duty which I had ought you, would have justified a passion that I find in­creasing in me, and cannot but take this opportunity to discover: You would, I say, have added love to my gratitude ...... I see Madam (con­tinued the Prince, something more hastily then before) that word to which you are not accustomed, is of­fensive to a vertue so tender, and so delicate as yours; but my error is the cause of my boldness. I thought I could not have acquitted my self of the duty which I ought you, but by loving you intirely: And the more love I enter­tained, the more grateful I thought my self: However Madam, I am most desperately in love; the Letters which I received, contributed to make me so; and from the time I fancied them from your Ladiship, I have so accu­stomed my self to love you, that if at [Page 104]present, it offends you, you ought to excuse it as proceeding from a habit that is not easily removed. Madam la Mareschalle had the good word of every body, and had hitherto pre­served her reputation against the attacks of Envy it self, which ren­dered her one of the most celebra­ted persons of her time; neverthe­less she could not but lend an ear to the passion of so great a man as the Prince of Condé. She hearkned to all that the ardor of his affection could dictate to his tongue; and when he had done, retired without giving him any answer, rather to irritate and foment, then to revenge or extirpate the love which he had conceived. Since her daughter in law was recluse in the Nunnery at Long­champ, no body at Court was able to contend with her; so as she had many Servants, and among the rest Anthony of Bourbon, King of Na­varre, and own Brother to the Prince [Page 105]of Condé: But being resolved, if she entertained any, to have a lover whose excellent accomplishments, might in some measure excuse her weaknesses, if it should be thought so; and that King being timorous and irresolute, she continued firm in her inclinations to the Prince.

Two Rivals are never long with­out emulation, and how strong so­ever the ligaments of blood may be, love will easily break them when they become obstacles to their designs. The King of Navarre, who before was an Enemy to the Guises, joyning with their party, rendered it more strong; for some few days before, by the Edict of Pacification, he was declared Lieu­tenant General of the Kingdom. The War being not quite extinct, it was no hard matter to revive it, and Fortune presented them with a pretence which both parties did e­qually desire.

The first of March, in the year One thousand five hundred sixty and two, as the Duke of Guise was passing by the little Town of Vassi, some of his retinue, in curiosity, en­tered into a House where the Hugo­notes were at their devotion, and perhaps treated them with derision; which being disgusted by the Hugo­notes, a quarrel began, and from words they came insensibly to blows: The Duke of Guise running in amongst them, to prevent any disorder, his presence revived the hatred which the Hugonotes had for him; and one of them had the con­fidence to throw a stone at him, and broke his head; which so animated his people against them, that after­wards he was not able to restrain them: And though he used the ut­most of his authority to hinder them, above fifty of the Hugonotes were slain, and more then two hun­dred wounded. This was the Mas­sacre [Page 107]at Vassi, which hath made such a noise in our History, and was a praeludium to all the Wars which succeeded, not only in the Reign of Charles the Nineth, but after­wards under Henry the Third, and Henry the Fourth.

Report (that never presents any thing fairly, and as it is) carried the news of this outrage to the Prince of Condé; and accompanied it with so many ill circumstances, as gave him occasion to presume, that the Duke of Guise was the Author. He departed immediately to attend the King at Monceaux, where, for some days, he was diverting himself with the Queen-Mother, and his Brothers, the Dukes of Anjon and Alencon, in whose presence he com­plained to his Majesty of the vio­lence, which the Duke of Guise had used (contrary to the Articles of the Treaty) to the prejudice of the Priviledges granted to that new [Page 108]opinion; but by the coldness of his answer, he found he was not to ex­pect reparation, unless it were de­manded with his Sword in his hand. He dispatched Messengers privately to the cheif of his party, who since the late pacification were dispersed into several Provinces; and ap­pointed them a Rendezvous at Or­leans, where (in spight of the Arrest that was given against him, in the time of the late King) his name was highly considerable. He was much pleased with so fair a pretence of renewing the War; for his valor could not be idle: But this Martial inclination was much impugned by another, which at that time, was more strong upon his heart; and the Passion which he had for the Mareschal de S. André, was incom­patible with a design that would re­move him so far from her. The Queen Mother, who for her own in­terest, apprehended they would [Page 109]seise upon the King, in whose per­son all her authority was placed, conveyed him with all diligence to Paris; but because the Cabal of the Guises (which she feared no less then that of the Prince) were as power­ful, she thought him not safe there, but two days after removed him to Fountainbleau. The King of Navarre, whose character of Lieutenant Ge­neral of the Kingdom, obliged him to remain some time at Paris, to give out such orders as were neces­sary for the good of the State, fail­ed not every day to multiply his visits to Madam la Mareschalle de S. André, who did not reckon it among her good fortunes to receive them; her heart being too full of the Prince of Condé, to afford room for any body else. To increase the good opinion of her Husband, and give him farther assurance of her fidelity, which he thought already incorrup­tible (and yet it was tottering at [Page 110]that very time) she discovered to him the designs of the King of Na­varre, who the day before had in­timated his affection; and told him, that after so mortal an injury, the very sight of him would be a trou­ble, from which she would willing­ly be excused.

the Mareschal ravished with the vertue of his Wife, granted her de­sire, and consented, that the King of Navarre should be requested to discontinue his visits: For his own part, though the offence which the King had committed, was of an un­pardonable nature, yet the Mares­chal suspended his resentment, least it should separate him from his par­ty, and ingage him with the Prince. The next day the King of Navarre renewing his visits to Madam la Ma­reschalle, was told she was not with­in: He asked for the Mareschal, and was answered, That he also was a­broad. This is not true (replied the [Page 111]King of Navarre) the Prince of Condé is here, I see by his Liveries, and Madam la Mareschelle is with him, for it is not to her Husband he makes his visits: And having said so, he presumed so far upon the pri­viledge of his quality, as to go up the Stairs into the Ladies appart­ment, where he found the Prince, as he said. It is most certain, the sight of a Rival, who is suspected to be in greater favor, disturbs a man exceedingly where his Passion is strong. The King of Navarre could not support the affront which Ma­dam la Mareschelle had done him, in preferring his Brother, whom he looked upon as much inferior to himself, in respect of the inequality of his power; but the Mareschals Lady regarded not that: On the contrary, the Princes extraordinary merit, made her look upon other things as the injustice of Fortune, to which, if it had been in her [Page 112]power to have administred a re­medy, there is nothing but she would have enterprised, to have proved her self the less blind of the two. You have reason Madam (said the King of Navarre, as he came in) to deny your self to be at home; it is not grateful to be interrupted in so pleasant a privacy: I see I have taken an ill time to visit you, which perhaps you will not easily pardon. The Lady was much disturbed at the sight of the King of Navarre, as being un­willing to have been surprised with the Prince of Condé, though no­thing passed betwixt them, that Fame it self could reproach; and assuming an air more fierce then usual, she replied, That in the pri­vacy she injoyed with his Brother, she feared no such affront as she had re­ceived not many days before; and that to prevent a second from the same per­son, she would take her measures so, as he should never find her alone. I suppose [Page 113]I understand you Madam, replied the King of Navarre, you have no de­sire that I should find you alone, but you are not offended to be alone with another; and the orders you left with your Porter, assures me, that I should have done you a kindness to have left you so now. Since you are pleased Mon­sieur, replied the Lady. (For though he was King of Navarre, being born a Subject to the King of France, they called him not SIRE, but only Monseigneur, as first Prince of the Blood; but Madam la Mares­challe being in a Passion against him, thought her self excusable in that point, and not obliged to those punctilioes with a Prince who had treated her in that manner.) Since you are pleased Monsieur (said she) to name your self, as if you had feared I should have imputed the affront, which you have done me, to some other person, I will not rob you of the honor of so noble an action: For a need I [Page 114]shall go farther, and confess to you in­genuously, that the orders given to my Porter, were intended only for you. This is too much Madam, replied the King of Navarre, and the presence of that person whom you prefer, exacted not from you so blind a complaisance. I have declared I love you, and am ready to do it again; if it be a weak­ness, it is a weakness that may without dishonor be owned: I know not (how­ever) upon what reason you condemn it in me, and approve it in another. Madam la Mareschalle would have returned him an answer, but the Prince prevented it, and told the King of Navarre, in some kind of heat, That he considered neither his Seniority, nor Majesty, when the re­putation of Madam la Mareschalle was at stake; that he forgot there, what perhaps he might ow him in an­other place; that what she condemned in him, was condemnable in all the World; and that he ought to judge [Page 115]more favorably of her vertue, seeing the temptation of his Crown was not able to stagger it.

You speak Sir, a little too high (re­plied the King of Navarre) but I do not admire it. Madam la Mareschalle inspires courage where she pleases; yet she must give me leave to question, whe­ther so bold a defender of her reputa­tion, contributes much to its establish­ment; and for what you would have me judge of her vertue, the great care you take of it, is a great means to keep me from a rash and temerarious construction.

Adieu Madam, said he, addressing himself towards her, I do not envy my Brother the favors which you show him: It is but reason he should be fa­vored in his love, who has had so little of it in his fortune; and if your Ladiship will give me leave to be free, I must tell you, I perceive that to be younger seven or eight years, is an ad­vantage that makes a man much more [Page 116]considerable to you. And having said so, he went out resolved to revenge himself, both upon the Lady and Prince. Though there was nothing in the passion which the Prince had for Madam la Mareschalle, at which, the most nice and scrupulous Ver­tue could have been scandalized, yet he was not a little discomposed, that the King of Navarre should find them together. He made large Apologies that his visit was so unseasonable, and promised to show his resentment so far, (if re­port should any ways intrench up­on her honor) that the Lady was not only affected, but forbore not to testifie it.

He had not had the happiness to discourse with her, since their con­ference in the Queens Lodgings; and notwithstanding all the pains which he took to create an occasion, she kept her self carefully upon her guard, and indeed declined him as [Page 117]much as she could, least the esteem she had for him should be drawn in­to an intelligence with his affection for her. The Prince in this anxiety being about to leave Paris, and ex­pose himself to the uncertainty of the Wars, could not resolve to leave the Town without explaining him­self once more to Madam la Mares­challe; and to prevent her avoid­ing him, he made her a visit at her own House, where he had been a compleat hour before the King of Navarre interrupted them. Whilest he was alone with her, he had ex­pressed himself so tenderly, and with so much testimony of his love, represented to her the possibility that this might be the last moment in which he might ever see her again; that the fortune of the Wars was uncertain; and, that if she suffered him to depart without satisfying him, that it was to her he ought all his obligations, his life [Page 118]would be a burden to him, of which he would endeavor to ease himself, the first Battle he should be ingaged in. He, I say, expressed himself so passionately in these terms, that at length she could not hold, but cry­ed out. Live Sir, live; and if you have any passion for me, make good use of that service which I have endeavor­ed to render you. Alas Madam, re­plied the Prince, how unprofitable is all your kindness, if your Vertue will not permit my acknowledgments to ex­ceed the degree of esteem! As many times as I have presumed to declare my affections, so many times have your eyes (which I always carefully obser­ved) checked and reprehended my boldness; and now even at this mo­ment I see your colour change, and your modesty, as it were, upbraiding me, for setting so great a value upon your generosity and goodness. It is true Madam, when at first you complained to me of the importunity of the King [Page 119]of Navarre, I thought myself ad­monished, that I could not do the same thing, without giving your Ladiship the same offence: But when I con­sidered, that he had never been re­ceived but with indifferency, and could not pretend to any obligation upon ac­count of your favors, I looked upon the Declaration which he had the con­fidence to make, as an intrenchment upon your honor; whereas you having been so noble as to concern your self for me, even to the saving of my life, I thought my self obliged to love you upon much better grounds then he; and to speak truth, I thought I could not conceal it without the highest in­gratitude.

This was their discourse before the King of Navarre came in; and the Prince had negotiated so well, that he had prevailed with her to permit his affection. But, I beseech you, (said Madam la Mareschalle to the Prince) never see me again after [Page 120]the consent which you have extorted from me: I consent upon no other con­dition, but that for the future your presence does not reproach my weak­ness; and it is by your obedience in this point, that I must be convinced of your love.

These words went very near him, yet as soon as the King of Navarre was gone, he took his leave also. This parting was not however without great trouble; it cost the Prince many a sigh, and Madam la Mareschalle who had forced her self much to conceal her own sorrow, ceased to constrain her self as soon as he was out of sight, and paid him in tears for all the sighs he had laid out.

Things being in this posture be­twixt the Prince and Madam la Ma­reschalle, the King of Navarre, more in spight to his Brother, then any religious consideration, turned Ca­tholick, and went over to the [Page 121]Church of Rome. Before this, the Connestable de Montmorency had always been of the Princes party, but being informed that the Prince had moved in Counsel for the re­sumption of some gifts, and suppo­sing himself the mark at which he principally aimed, because in the Reign of Henry the Second, he had received One hundred thousand Crowns, of which he had given no account; he joyned himself with the Duke of Guise, and the Mares­chal de S. André, under pretence of preserving the Religion of his An­cestors: But the truth is, it was only fear of being obliged to re­fund; and all that could be said by his Son the Mareschal Mortmorency (repuced the Wisest Man in the Kingdom) was not of power to di­vert him.

This League, which the Hugo­notes called The Triumvirate, being augmented by the accession of the [Page 122]King of Navarre, and the reputa­tion that accompanied him as Lieu­tenant General of the Kingdom; the Hugonots forsook Paris, where the Catholicks were prevalent. The Protestants were no sooner in the Field, and the Prince of Condé at the head of them, but they began to make their Enemies tremble, as their Enemies had made them be­fore. The Catholicks would not propose it to the King to return to Paris, because the Prince of Condés party increasing daily in their num­bers, it was not impossible but they might seize upon the Kings person. To prevent the mischeifs of such an accident, the King of Navarre, the Duke of Guise, and the Connesta­ble repaired to Fountainbleau with all speed, where they found the Queen hesitating and uncertain which party she should take; be­sides that, she was weary of the do­mination of the Guises, it is said, [Page 123]that the Prince of Condés Religion appeared more commodious to her, then her own: The History menti­ons a Letter which the Queen-Mo­ther writ to him some few days be­fore, which he sent afterwards to all the Protestant Princes in Ger­many, to provoke their assistance; the words of it were these.

It was a strange surprise to the Queen-Mother, to find her self pressed by the Confederates, to bring the King back again to Paris. Before she could put her self under the protection of the Prince, she expected till his Army should be strong enough to constrain the rest of the Kingdom, to the expulsion of the Guises; and because daily, Gentlemen were observed to repair to him, from all the Provinces in France, to tender him their service, she thought that time was not far off, and therefore expected it with the more patience.

These considerations obliged her to temporise, and her design was as soon as the King of Navarre, and his Associates were returned to Pa­ris, to take a contrary Road, and [Page 125]carry the King to Orleans; which was the place of the Prince of Con­dés Rendezvous, and the cheif re­ceptable of his Party. The Duke of Guise having had long experi­ence of her cunning, told her, That the Person of the King was too dear to them to be trusted out of their sight, in so ticklish a conjuncture; and the King of Navarre (who was naturally frank) added, That for her self she might stay if she pleased, but there was a necessity that the King must go along with them; and calling for his Coach, they carried him, with tears in his eyes, to Melun that night; the next day to the Bois de Vincennes, and from thence to Paris; where, under pretence of magnificence, they placed a strong guard about him.

The Prince was much troubled when he understood the King was in his Enemies hands, and thinking at first it had been a trick of the [Page 126]Queens; he took all ways that he could invent to revenge himself of her. He published a Manifesto, re­monstrating, That the King of Na­varre was entred into intelligence with the Guises, to keep their Sove­raign in durance; and to justifie what he said, he inserted the Queens Letter to him, and offered a sight of the original to any Man that sus­pected it. There was so much pro­bability in what he affirmed, That all who were impartial, and not of the Guises Party absolutely, made no scruple to believe it. However, those who were Neutral, and nei­ther of the one party, nor the other, got together in troops to demand the inlargement of their King; and their numbers increased so fast, that they grew formidable to the Con­federates, insomuch, that they were obliged to procure a Declaration from him (which they dispersed in­to all the Provinces of the King­dom) [Page 127]importing, That their Ma­jesties were perfectly at liberty, and had chosen Paris as a place more proper for their safety; that to ca­jole the Hugonotes who had a de­sign to have seised upon the King, the Queen-Mother had thought it convenient to flatter them with fri­volous hopes, and to wheedle the cheif of their Party, with a Letter that had succeeded as she de­sired.

This Declaration was followed with an Arrest of the Parliament, permitting any Man to murder the Protestants where-ever they met them, as persons guilty of Treason both against God and their King. Nevertheless, no hostility having been committed either on one side, or the other, the Chancellor de l'Hospital (one of the wisest men of his time) used all his interest to dis­sipate a storm that had been gather­ing and condensing so long: But [Page 128]his endeavors were ineffectual; the War brake out in so many places together, that nothing but a shower of Blood could extinguish it.

Love, which commonly is not to be found, but amongst sports and recreations, had the courage to be­hold all these dreadful preparations for a Civil War. The King of Na­varre having made a second attempt upon the Vertue of the Mareschals Lady, and with as little success, re­solved to loose no more time about her, but to comfort himself against his repulse there, by making his ad­dresses to Madamoiselle de Rouet, (a Maid of Honor to the Queen) and one that was not like to be so inexorable. On the other side, Ma­damoiselle de Limevil her Compani­on, and Maid of Honor to the Queen, as she was, (whom the Prince of Condé had formerly loved, and arrived at such familiarity with her, as was for some time an incon­venience [Page 129]to her) made it her busi­ness, as much as possible, to convert his impatience to be fighting, into another passion, where she found the combat was not altogether so unpleasant. She knew his inclina­tions, and did not doubt, how va­liant soever he was, but he was as sensible of Love, as of Honor. She writ to him, and desired him to consider, That he was making War against a person, for whom he had formerly had more kindness, for her Religion had placed her among his Enemies.

This Letter not having the effect that she expected, she writ to him a second, but to no more purpose then the first: At which she was so highly offended, that for some time she was mortally angry with her self, that it was not in her power to hate him.

The Queen (who during the War, had but an imperfect enjoy­ment [Page 130]of her Regency, because all things went thorow the hands of the Lieutenant General of the King­dom) understanding by Madamoi­selle de Rouet (to whom the King of Navarre had discovered it) that the Mareschal de S. Andrés Lady had a great influence upon the Prince of Condé, she sent for her privately, and conjured her to im­ploy her utmost authority, to make him consent to the Peace; promising she would never be unmindful of so great an obligation. Had Madam la Mareschal durst to have trusted her with her intrigues, she would have done as the Queen had desired. Her passion for the Prince increased every day; and though she had Vertue enough to resist, she had not Vertue enough to triumph. She knew that to encourage his Troops, and animate them against all danger, he would be sure to show them an example, and expose himself first [Page 131]where the danger was greatest; and this thought gave her such great and frequent anxieties, that under pretence of being solicitous for her Husband, she conjured him to dis­pose the Duke of Guise to an ac­commodation, as the Queen did de­sire. In the mean time, the distance of the Prince was a torment to her; yet the reputation that she had to be the person of the least scandal in the whole Court, corrected her natural inclination: For the conser­vation of her Honor, she renounced her affection, and would have ac­quired greater esteem, had she been always of that mind.

The Queen disgusted that Madam la Mareschelle refused to write to the Prince; and being desirous to know whether he had any kindness for her or not, resolved to write to him her self.

After she had displayed the best Arguments she could think of, to [Page 132]perswade him to consent to an ac­commodation, and represented to him, That the King (to whom she had the honor to be Mother) the State, and her self, should be indebt­ed to him for their repose; she added, That thereby he would likewise do a singular favor to Madam le Mareschalle, who would have writ to him her self, if it might have been done with security: And to clear all doubts, that he might conceive in his mind, she would bring her a­long to Mont le Hery, if he thought good to meet at a day that she would appoint (attended only with fifty men, and she with the same number) to confer about some way of preventing a War, in which the happiest success that could be look­ed for, must needs be fatal to France.

The Prince thought no pleasure equal to a sight of his Mistress, and therefore returned answer to the [Page 133]Queen, by the same Messenger, That he would not fail to attend her Ma­jesty at the Rendezvous, where ever she thought fit to command. The Admiral, who was by that time come to Orleans, was of another opinion: He understood the Queen so well, that all overtures from her were suspected by him; but when Love speaks, for the most part no­thing else can be heard: So that it is no great wonder, if all the Rea­sons that the Admiral applied to the contrary, had no effect upon the Prince.

The day the Queen had appoint­ed being arrived, the amorous Prince appeared in sight of Mont le Hery, and the Admiral suspecting some stratagem against his person, put himself into his equipage, and made one of the fifty; though he was not able to divert him from meeting, yet he perswaded him from trusting himself in a Town that [Page 134]was inclined to the interest of the Guises; which reason was sufficient to make him suspicious. The Queen came thither the day before; before she came out of Paris, she com­manded two of her Maids to pre­tend themselves sick, that she might have a more plausible pretence, to take along with her Madam la Ma­reschalle de S. André, and it succeed­ed as she desired: For the Mares­chal was so far from giving any ob­struction, that he seemed to be much satisfied with the great honor the Queen conferred upon his Wife. The Prince having sent a Gentle­man to the Queen to remonstrate, that her forces were not equal where she expected him, and to desire he might attend her at a little Village betwixt Mont le Hery and Bretigny, where their Paroles could not on either side be so easily broken; the Queen departed immediately to­wards that place, accompanied with [Page 135]fifty Gentlemen, and the Chancellor de l'Hospitale who was in the same Coach with Madam la Mareschalle de S. André.

As soon as the Prince, and the Admiral, perceived her Majesty coming, they advanced to meet her; and when they were arrived at a competent distance to be seen, they alighted from their Horse, and forgot nothing that was incumbent upon them, to the Mother of their King. Though Madam la Mares­challe, and the Prince, were equally impatient of seeing one another, yet they spake not a word: Never­theless, where there is Love in the case, there are other ways of signi­fying their minds; and it is no new thing, among them, to discourse by the eye.

The Queen had appointed the Chancellor her spoksman, and he made several Proposals for Peace; but whether the Prince came thi­ther [Page 136]only to see Madam la Mares­challe, or that his mind being pre­occupied, was not enough settled to come to a resolution, in so im­portant a matter, he did not com­ply with any thing that was pro­posed. The Admiral, perswaded that if Peace were concluded, he should not be so considerable as the Prince; and besides, having secret advice that they talked of cutting off his head, he made Proposals al­so in his turn; but so unreasonable, that they began to suspect he had some intimation of their design a­gainst his person; and that if the Prince were of the same mind, it would be to no purpose to think of an accommodation: However the Queen would not desist; and it may be said to her praise (supposing always that she meant as she said) that the offers which she made were so reasonable, that the Peace would have been infallibly concluded, had [Page 137]not the Admiral perverted the Prince by his ill Counsels.

After two hours conference, they parted, and nothing concluded, the Prince and Madam la Mareschal­le, who had not seen one another but in the presence of the Queen, and were afraid on both sides, least their eyes should have been want­ing in the explication of their minds, separated with extraordina­ry regret.

Both parties were now at a con­siderable distance, when the Queen unwilling to be any ways defective in so generous a point, sent for the Prince to come back, and desired Madam la Mareschalle to alight out of the Coach, and privately to con­jure him from the interests of the Admiral. She obeyed her Majesties commands, and the Prince seeing her make towards him, advanced to save her the pains, and quickly arrived at the place which he de­sired. [Page 138]He cast his eyes about, and seeing no body near enough to un­derstand what he said, Ah Madam! cryed he, how cruel a thing is it to love! To see, and not to have the courage to speak! Madam la Mares­challe apprehending she was obser­ved by the Queen, told him upon what account she was commanded to meet him, and desired to know what he intended to do. Let us leave, I beseech you Madam, replied the Prince, these affairs of State, and seeing our time of being together is so short, be not so unkind as to deprive my love of any part of it: For in short Madam (said he) my heart is too entirely yours to suffer you to be ignorant of its condition. I must confess I do but equivocate with the Queen, but I have too great honor for you to use any collusion; and the peace which I refuse, may assure you, that my coming hither was more to injoy the happiness of your sight, then to [Page 139]entertain propositions of that nature. And what will be the effect of this en­terview, replied the Lady, if we must immediately part, and perhaps never to see one another again? If the sight of me was so dear to you, as you would have me believe, you would not leave me so easily, and the terms which are offered you, would seem reasonable enough to prevail with you, to embrace an occasion that might give you more frequent access. Alass Madam! re­plied the Prince, how unhappy shall I be to leave you, if your kindness con­tinues. The hatred I retain for the Guises, is not proof against those fa­vorable sentiments which you have been pleased to express towards me: And although it will have great reflection upon my honor, to leave the insolencies committed against me unrevenged, yet I shall wave them with delight, if the sacrifice of my resentments may, in any measure, convince you of the greatness of my passion. I require nothing of [Page 140]your love, (replied the Lady some­thing fiercely) that may be a prejudice to your honor. If the esteem I have for you, be any ways considerable, it is to your own reputation alone, that you are indebted: And as great a Prince as you are, perhaps I should not so ea­sily have granted it, had not you been a greater Man, and your merits been more venerable than your dignity. I cannot but tell you, said she, it is a great trouble to me, that the Peace is not concluded; but it would be much more, should any thing be patched up to your diminution: I should be so far from interpreting the sacrifice of your honor, to be an expression of your love, that I should understand it a weakness that would make me repent the in­justice of my choice; and if you will give me leave to advertise you with sin­cerity, my heart, at present charmed with the greatness of your exploits, would easily disabuse it self, if any thing should escape wherewith you [Page 141]might be equitably reproached. The Prince overjoyed to hear what he did, replied with a transport, he could not conceal. How infinitely happy am I, Madam, to find so much generosity in a person I shall adore as long as I live? How dear to me must my honor be, that is so much consider­ed by your Ladiship; and if my ex­ploits were acceptable to you, before it was my design to please you, what shall I not do now to augment a reputation that renders me so much a debtor to your goodness.

After which, he told her upon what grounds he refused the Peace, representing to her, that the Guises were in possession of a place that be­longed to his birth; and he was in equity to dispute it, though they had been advanced to it by their merit. As to Religion, said he, I do not intend that shall be any impedi­ment to my fortune; nor have I im­braced this (of which I make professi­on [Page 142]now) because it was the better, but in opposition to the House of Lorrain, and that I might be their enemy: For let me but revenge my self for the affronts which I have received from them, and it imports not of what Religion I am. What shall I say to the Queen? re­plied Madam la Mareschalle, in a manner that expressed the trouble she conceived to leave him. She ex­pects your answer, and you know her impatience. In the name of that thing which is most dear to you in the whole World, replied the Prince, do not hasten a separation that will be so irk­some to me. The affairs which the Queen has committed to your conduct, are not of so little consequence to be slubbered over in haste, and perhaps I may never again have so happy an opportunity of seeing you. But Sir, said she with great tenderness, if we should be longer together, what should we say? Ah Madam! replied the Prince, had I given as much love [Page 143]as I have received; what is it we should not say?

Farewel Sir, cried Madam la Ma­reschelle (who perhaps began to sus­pect her own continence) I am mar­ried, and it is enough to tell you, can hear you no farther. If you have any value for my esteem, you know upon what terms it is to be obtained, and how you are to comport to deserve it: But as dear as your honor is to you, I would not have you purchase it at too great a rate, nor be too prodigal of a life, for which perhaps I have a greater concern then you imagine. Once again adieu; and with those words she took her leave of the Prince, who conjured her to stay some few mo­ments longer; but she told him, That it was no argument of his af­fection, to have so little care of her reputation; and his love being ac­companied with great reverence and respect, he suffered her to de­part, and contented himself to wait [Page 144]upon her with his eyes till she came to the Queens Coach; into which she was no sooner entred, but he faced about and returned to the Admiral.

This Conference having no better success, and the Forces on both sides being near, acts of hostility were begun, and the King reduced to an unfortunate necessity of conquering his own Kingdom; Roüen having declared for the Hugonots, was the first Town that was besieged. It en­dured several assaults, with a reso­lution that would have gained it much honor, had the cause been as good as their courage; but at last, the Prince of Condé, having in vain, endeavored to relieve it (the Mares­chal de S. André having blocked up the Passes) it was taken by storm, and the King of Navarre entred in triumph thorow the Breaches.

This action was great, and made a great noise, but it was bought [Page 145]very dear: For the King of Na­varre receiving a shot in his shoulder (which had not been dangerous, but for the too frequent visits of Ma­damoiselle du Ruet) it proved so ill, that putting himself upon the Seyne to go back to Paris by Wa­ter, a shivering took him by the way; and after that a cold sweat, which obliged him to stay at Ande­lis; where the same day he died as he lived, that is to say, in the same uncertainty as to his Religion, be­ing neither true Protestant, nor good Papist.

The Prince of Condé who had promised himself great honor from this expedition, and knew it to be the only way to strike deep into the heart of Madam la Mareschalle de S. André, was much dejected at the loss of Roüen: However whilest the Kings Army was imployed in Normandy, it came into his mind, to advance with his Army to the [Page 146]very Walls of Paris, hoping that the suddenness of his approach, and the confusion it must needs bring upon so large and populous a City, might make its conquest more easie; but his success in that was no better, then in his relieving of Roüen.

After the miscarriage of so great an enterprise, he thought it inglo­rious to retire; and therefore chose rather to advance against the Duke of. Guise (who was coming with his victorious Army from Roüen) and to engage him, if possible, to a Bat­tle that might revenge the Hugo­nots, for the loss which they had sustained.

The Admiral was of the same opinion, and they had doubtless defeated the Duke of Guise, had their conduct been as good as their courage: But their design being more talked of then was necessary, the Mareschal de S. André came up with his Troops, and joyned with [Page 147]the Royal Army, which had need enough of their Succors. The Prince was at the head of 12000 Men, and the number of the Catholicks was no less. They met near the Town of Dreux, and the two Armies be­ing drawn up in Battalia, the Hugo­nots charged with that vigor, that at first all the advantage was on their side. They made themselves masters of the best part of the Catholicks Cannon, and took the Connestable Montmerancy prisoner; but being allured by the splendor of the Train, and the hopes of Booty, they put themselves out of order to plunder the Enemies Baggage; which the Duke of Guise (who was a great Officer) observing, he took the opportunity, charged again, and improved the advantage of their confusion so well, that he turned the scales, and forced the Hugonots out of the Field. The Prince of Condé, in the greatest heat [Page 148]of this charge, advancing in oppo­sition to the Duke of Guise, found himself in the midst of a Party of Catholicks, who demanded his Sword; but instead of giving them an answer, he made use of it to make his passage; but finding it to no purpose, he delivered it to Dan­ville, the Connestables second Son, and yeilded himself his prisoner: Whilest the Catholicks were in this manner engaged with the Prince of Condé, a Body of the Hugonot Horse having made a charge upon the Ma­reschal de S. André (who was too hotly in pursuit of the victory) they put him to the same distress, took him prisoner, and were carry­ing him off to accompany the Con­nestable: But a Parisian called Me­ziers, who had been formerly dis­obliged by him, took that oppor­tunity to revenge himself, and shot him dead upon the place.

The Admiral, with the relicks of his Hugonot Troops, recovered Or­leans with all speed, apprehending, that if he were charged again, he should be forced to quit the Conne­stable. The Prince of Condé was presented by Danville to the Duke of Guise, who treated him with a respect, accompanied with many marks of esteem, which were return­ed with so much generosity by the Prince, that it was an astonishment to them both to consider, that not­withstanding the great deference and civility they expressed one to the other, that yet they should be so unhappy as to be Enemies.

Madam la Mareschalle de S. An­dré, whose vertue had hitherto been unshakable, was much troubled for the death of her Husband: But the news of the death of Eleonora, Wife to the Prince of Condé, arriving presently after, gave her no small relaxation. She had received a Let­ter [Page 150]from the Prince of Condé, dated after the Battle of Dreux, to com­fort her against the loss of her Hus­band; and she to requite it, had condoled with him with the same ceremony upon the loss of his Wife: But the design was only to adver­tise one another, that those impedi­ments being removed, they were now at liberty, and needed not any longer restraint. In the mean time, the Duke of Guise (who had gained great reputation by the greatness of this exploit) was unwilling to give the Hugonots breath) the most of whose great Officers being pri­soners, he concluded the opportu­nity too favorable to be slipped; and Orleans being the most consider­able Town of their party, he thought by forcing of that, to re­duce them to a necessity of admit­ting what terms and impositions he pleased to exact.

He began that siege the beginning of February, and in spight of the extreamity of the season, and op­position of the Garrison, possessed himself of all the Suburbs with the loss only of eight or nine men; but riding out one evening to meet his Lady, who was at that time coming to the Leagure; the infamous Pol­trot having watched him three or four days before, shot him treache­rously with a Pistol, of which he died six days after, to the infinite regret of all that knew him, and particularly of the Prince of Condé, who (though his Enemy) could not forbear giving testimony of his sor­row at his first notice of the news. All the Catholick Historians, and even those whose Religion he would have destroyed, have thought it an honor to do Justice to his memory; and though they were not of the same sentiments in point of Religion, yet in this they agreed, [Page 152]That he had all the necessary quali­fications of a Gentleman, without any of the vices, either of a Prince or a Courtier.

Least he might leave a stain upon his memory, he imployed almost the last moments of his life, in clear­ing himself of the massacre at Vassi; calling God to witness, That it was innocently, and without design, if he was the occasion of the War. He advised the Queen-Mother to take the Prince of Condé, near to the Person of the King, his quality making it injust to keep him at a distance; and this he proposed as the only way to accommodate all quarrels, and restore peace to the Nation.

The Queen, who judged of other people by her self, and looked up­on the words of a dying man to be sincere, made use of the Duke of Guises Counsels, supposing that be­ing so suddenly to give an account [Page 153]of them to God, he had delivered himself freely without artifice or cunning. She prosecuted the Peace, and whilest she was before Orleans, caused the two prisoners, the Prince of Condé, and the Connestable to be brought under good Guards, to a place called l'Isle aux Baeufs. The Prince, who by the death of his Lady was become Master of himself, and knew that Madam la Mareschalle was at as much liberty by the death of her Husband, was impatient to see her, and desired Peace with all the eagerness of the World: But the fortune of his Arms having been unkind since he saw her last; and knowing that she was sensible so much of nothing, as of honor and renown, he would willingly order it so, as the Treaty of Peace should revenge the injuries of the War, and had rather remain a prisoner eternally, then sign any thing that Madam la Mareschalle should not ap­prove. [Page 154]After several meetings, in which both Parties had proposed, and contested their several interests, a Model was drawn up, of which the Prince desired a Copy, pre­tending he would send it to the Ad­miral, who at that time was about Havre de Grace, in order to the re­ceiving a sum of Money out of Eng­land, wherewith Queen Elizabeth supplied the Hugonots privately: But he sent his Copy secretly to the Mareschal de S. Andrés Widow, with a compliment (the highest ima­ginable) That the Peace or the War, depended upon her direction; and which she in her great wisdom would vouchase to appoint, that he would stand to, and nothing else. This transcendent expression of love (which left her arbitrix of the hap­piness or unhappiness of the whole Kingdom) made great impression upon her heart: She was more en­amored with that, then she had [Page 155]been ever before: And if she had had no love for him, she could, not in honor but make him some suitable return. She did so, and the Letter which she sent, was doubtless as he would have desired; for within eight days after, the Peace was con­cluded.

This great work having in a short time stifled all Divisions, and com­posed the Animosities in all parts of the Kingdom; the Queen had thoughts not to return so sodainly to Paris, but to carry the King tho­row some of his Provinces, to ac­quaint him with his Subjects, and that he might gain upon their af­fections. The Connestable and the Chancellor de l'Hospital attended them, but the Prince of Condé had other avocations. It was but a days journey betwixt Orleans and Paris, and in a days time he might be gone; yet it was a long time to his impa­tience.

It was about midnight before he could get to Paris, but no hour is unseasonable for love: The Prince being of that opinion, alighted where his love had conducted him; and Madam la Mareschalle being sur­prised with the news that he was come in, and desired permission to see her, was so much discomposed, that it brought a colour into her face, that added new lustre to her beauty. After they had saluted, and great compliments passed on both sides, the Prince perceiving they were alone, and that in civility the Ladies attendants were retired out of the Room. I must have much love Madam (said the Prince to her) or great confidence in your goodness, to appear in your presence, having so ill observed your prescription. Honor was the only way, by which you directed me to your heart, which I have been so far from acquiring since our unhappy sepa­ration, that I have done nothing but [Page 157]contributed to the glory of the Enemy, and that in so high a degree, as to make him master of my Liberty, to which condition, no body had any title to reduce me, but your self. Your Fame Sir, replied the Lady, has prevented you, and gives us an account of your carriage without any disadvantage to your honor. It was not in flying from your Enemy, that you was surrounded and taken; and when I recommended to you the care of your reputation, it was not with design to object to you the malice of your fortune. The Prince understood by the obligingness of her answer, that the disgrace which he had received at the Battle of Dreux, had not alienated the af­fections of Madam la Mareschalle, and that was enough for one visit. Being late in the night, and having found her undressed, he thought it but civil to take his leave, which he did, and departed sooner then he could have wished, and perhaps [Page 158]sooner then Madam la Mareschalle her self desired. The next morning he was to wait upon her again. He himself was in mourning, and found her in the same dress, wherewith both parties were well pleased. For for one time when that habit is ef­fectually sorrowful, there are a hun­dred when people are joyful to wear it. The Prince had children by his Wife, but Madam la Mares­challe had none by her Husband, who had left her a considerable e­state, of which she was not to be ac­countable to any body. The year (during which, they were obliged to some kind of decorum) being in­sensibly expired, Madam la Mares­challe, not having had power to for­bear loving the Prince, when her vertue and fidelity to her Husband impugned it, loved him now with­out measure, where she might do it without crime; and he took too [Page 159]much pleasure in the owning it, to desire it should be a secret.

A certain Gentleman of Gascoigne called Montsequiou (whose greatest qualification was to be a Captain in the Duke of Anjous Guards) with a confidence natural to his Countrey­men; cast his eyes upon Madam la Mareschalle, and believed, that having the favor of his Master, he was in a condition high enough to pretend to the Widow of a Ma­reschal of France.

He was a Man of wit, and to pro­cure himself admission, he obtained to be sent to the said Lady with a compliment from the Duke of Anjou, upon the death of her Husband. Having discharged himself well of this Embassie, and possessed her, that he was a person of some parts, he made her several visits afterwards upon his own account; and endea­vored to insinuate into her affection by his respects, of which, the Gas­coigns [Page 160]are no niggards, especially when it conduces to their designs.

Madam la Mareschalle being one of the most considerable matches in the Kingdom, Montesequiou was fearful least some body should get before him, and therefore took his first opportunity to declare him­self; at which Madam la Mares­challe was much surprised, and look­ing upon him with scorn, she told him, That did she not believe she should disparage her self by publish­ing his confidence, she would have made him presently to have repent­ed it; and then turning away, she forbad him her presence for ever.

This Gallant, whose quality was not great enough to permit him to revenge himself publickly, had re­course to the cunning of inferior spirits, and did what he could to deprave and blacken the reputation of the Lady.

The kindness which she had for the Prince of Condé, and he for her, was the discourse of the whole Court, and it was given on the Ladies side, that hers was most vio­lent; and that which made it the more credible, was a present that she had made him, great enough indeed to cause it to be presumed, that it was the recompence of some extra­ordinary service. After the Dukes of Anjou and Alencon, the Kings Brothers, there was no body but the young Prince of Bearn (who was since Henry le Grand) nearer the Crown then the Prince of Condé, and yet this latter (though a Prince of the Blood) was but narrow in his fortune, and could not make any expence proportionable to his quality.

The Mareschals Widow could not suffer so little a defect, in so considerable a Man; she took de­light in correcting the injustice of [Page 162]Fortune; and Valery being one of the best of her Mannors, she con­jured him to accept it, and gave it in so good earnest, that the Princes Heirs enjoy it at this day. To gra­tifie her kindness, (and perhaps to oblige her to something else, which I will not mention in this place, and which malicious people say she never refused him) the Prince pro­mised her Marriage, and had married her immediately, had he believed the Peace firm enough, to have lived quietly with her. In the mean time people talked diversly of this Act of Bounty in the Widow: For one person that commended it, there were ten who reproached it; and there hapned at the same time to be a Poet who exercised his vein upon it, and made two Couplets to the the tune of a Courant that was then in mighty request.

These Verses made more noise then they were worth: Montesquiou was one of the first that had got them; and to revenge himself of his Mistress, he gave Copies of them to any body that asked them: And when at last they were suspected to be his, he denied them in such a manner as perswaded people it was true, though indeed he was none [Page 164]of the Author. There being no­thing in the Song, but what either was, or was thought to the Princes advantage. It was not long before it was sung to him; but he who sung it, was not so wise as he might have been. The Prince desired the Copy, and asked him if he knew the Author; he told him it was Montesquious hand, and that he had made them himself.

At his departure from thence, going directly to Madam la Mares­challes Lodgings, he found her in a greater rage then ever he had seen her, and it was not long before he understood the occasion. One of her intimate friends had brought her a Copy of the same Verses, which she had heard sung also, and inquiring of the Author, it was said to be Montsequiou. Madam la Ma­reschalle had no mind to acquaint the Prince with the affront she had already received, because she would [Page 165]not trouble him with the know­ledge that he had so inconsiderable a Rival: But inraged as she was, she could keep no measures, but used all means possible to revenge her self of his insolence. The Verses which had been given to the Prince, and those which were brought to Madam la Mareschalle were written both in a hand, which confirmed the suspition that Montesquiou made them. This incensed the Prince so highly against him, that as Montes­quiou was one night returning alone from the Louvre, he met with those who gave him an hundred good blows with a Weapon, not altoge­ther so honorable as a Sword; and least he should be ignorant from whence that beating came, they told him it was a present from the Prince of Condé.

This assault made a greater noise then the Verses: The Queen, who loved the Duke of Anjou exceed­ingly, [Page 166]took it very ill that the Prince should treat one of his prin­cipal Officers at that rate: But there was too much inequality betwixt them, for the Prince to make any excuse; and besides, since the Duke of Guises misfortune, there was scarce a Gentleman in France, but would have sided with a Prince of the Blood.

Things were in this posture when the Admiral (who was not at all pleased with the Princes passion for Madam la Mareschalle de S. André) proposed a match to him with Ma­damoiselle de Orleans, the Duke of Longuevilles Sister, who was young, and handsome, and a better fortune then the other. Some are of opi­nion, and have not spared to report it, that the Prince had obtained of Madam la Mareschalle, that which should never be granted to any Man, whom a Woman desires to make her Husband: For this is a [Page 167]certain property of love, to desire without end, and when nothing is left to irritate that desire, love ceases, and takes no pleasure in any thing it receives. However though the Princes heat began to slacken every day, yet he was so far sensible of the favors which he had enjoyed from the Lady Mareschalle de S. André, that he rejected the Admi­rals proposition at first, as knowing how insufferable it would be to the person in the whole World, to whom he had the greatest obliga­tion. Yet his design was to leave her by degrees, and to restore her Mannor of Valery that she had given him so generously; that he might discontinue insensibly, he forbore his visits at first for two days, then four, and next a whole week. Ma­dam la Mareschalle thinking every hour lost that was not spent in his company, complained of him so tenderly, and reproached his cruel­ty [Page 168]in so gentle and innocent terms, that privately the Prince could not but accuse his own obduracy, in not answering so incomparable a kindness.

One day as she desired him to make no more Protestations, but perform his promise; he gave such poor and trifling Reasons to excuse it, that after she had used the ut­most of her power to conceal her sorrow, and was scarce able to con­tain her tears which were ready to break forth before his face, she could not but tell him. Then Sir, I see your love is at an end. Consider better of your self Madam, replied the Prince, and do not so much injustice to your own Excellency, to believe one can be so easily delivered from your Bonds: Were not my love for you so great as you deserve, the bounty that you have expressed towards me, would eternally present it self to my memory, and my heart is too well placed to be [Page 169]guilty of ingratitude. Ah Sir! said Madam la Mareschalle, it is not ac­knowledgments that I ask of you, it is love: If I have done any thing for you that deserves to be remembred, that was my design; and if you do not an­swer it, I have done nothing that I intended to have done. The Prince (who hated ingratitude, and yet found himself too much disposed that way) made use of all his wit to dispel that fear which Madam la Mareschalle had entertained; but his heart had not the least share in what ever he said. As some people love to see every thing in the best place, and let no opportunity escape, wherein they may flatter them­selves, so she believed whatever he would have her, and even repented that she had so injustly suspected him. Thus they parted, she more then ever in love with the Prince, and he distracted with the remorse that those persons feel, who though [Page 170]indued with a great deal of vertue, are yet at the point of falling into a crime. He suffered almost a moneth to pass, and never made her a visit, because he could not get from her without trouble; yet he writ to her every morning, and made the fairest excuses he could contrive to render his absence supportable. At last having pumped himself dry, and no reasons left to make his apology, the truth could be no longer con­cealed.

One night as Madam la Mares­challe was alone in her Closset, look­ing over all the Letters that ever she had received from him, and (where she found them kind) watering them with her tears; word was brought, that there was a Gentleman without, who desired to speak with her from the Prince. He was brought in, and having presented her with a Packet, she opened it hastily, and found it in these terms.

In what condition was the poor Lady upon the reading of this Let­ter; her heart was great, and she [Page 173]thought complaints too mean to e­vaporate her sorrows that way. Here, Sir, carry back this Paper which came in the Letter that your Master troubled himself to send me (said she to the Gentleman who brought it) and tell him from me, that he does not restore all that he had from me, and I cannot absolve him for so little. The Gentleman made some difficulty to receive it, but she gave him such Reasons, that at last he could not handsomely refuse. It was the Grant which Madam la Mareschalle had given to the Prince of Valery, which he thought dishonorable to retain having quitted the Lady. But though it was a present worthy of him, when he accepted it; yet she thought it beneath her to take it again upon those terms; nor could she prevail with her self, to resume that from an ingrateful person, which she believed she had given to the most faithful of his Sex.

When she found she was alone, and under no necessity of constraint, she gave her self up wholly to grief, which her love and indignation fo­mented continually.

It is certain the Prince was all this while in as great an agony as Ma­dam la Mareschalle. The moneth that he had suffered to pass with­out seeing her, had been imployed in negotiating his marriage with the Duke of Longuevilles Sister; and least Madam dé S. André should give any impediment to it, with the promise that had been made her by the Prince; the Admiral had car­ried it so cunningly, that though it was a marriage of great importance, it was to be consummated that very night, without being known to above five or six who were to be present.

This must be said in favor of the Prince, and all people must agree to it, that he had many conflicts and [Page 175]combats within himself, before he could consent to that infidelity. The kindness which Madam la Ma­reschalle had shown him, before he had given her any occasion: The tenderness wherewith afterwards she had given him such tokens of her affection. The desperate con­dition to which he foresaw she must, of necessity, be reduced: In short, whatever came into his thoughts, when he remembred her, caused re­morse and compunction in his heart, and the nearer the time approached in which he was to give himself to another, the more his sorrows in­creased. But the Admiral who ha­ted Madam la Mareschalle himself, and could not endure she should be beloved by any body else, stirred not from the Prince till the marri­age was consummate; the influence that he had upon him, being too strong for all the Princes resolu­tions.

This Wedding that was kept so secret (least his promise to Madam la Mareschelle might have disturbed it) ceased to be a secret, when there was nothing to fear, and the next day the new Princess of Condé went in that quality to pay her first homage to the Queen.

Madam la Mareschelle was in the Louvre, at the same time; and knowing nothing as yet of what had passed the night before, she looked upon her only as Madamoi­selle d'Orleans, not imagining why the Page that carried up her Train, should be in the Princes Livery; but she enjoyed this ignorance not long; for in a short time, they told her what she was not willing to have known.

She went immediately from the Louvre, being unable to endure so ungrateful an object. As she was going away, she met Montesquiou, and, in spight of her malice to him, [Page 177]conjured him to follow her. She was no sooner in her Chamber, but he was called up, and carried into her Closet, where being not to be heard by any body but himself, Do you love me still Montesquiou? said she to him. Montesquiou surprised at the demand, but more at the man­ner of delivering it, imagined the cause, and guessed it must be rather anger, then love that made her so kind. However not loving with the punctilio of a Gentleman, and it being indifferent to him upon what Motives she married him, so it was but his fortune to carry her, he told her, That he loved her, without intermission, from the very first time he had seen her; and though he was so unhappy as to lie under her disdain, yet it was still his resolution, and he would love her whilest he lived. These are but words, replied Madam la Mareschalle, I have been too lately, and too unworthily betrayed to be­lieve [Page 178]such weak testimonies again. If you love me, you must show it by more effectual evidence; and let me tell you the evidence I require of you, is not to be performed by a person of mean or indifferent courage? Consult your love before you give me an answer, and see if it be capable of doing a piece of service for me, that shall be worthy of being recompenced with my self. De­clare it Madam, replied Montes­quiou, and you shall see how far my passion will carry me. The reward that you are pleased to propose, is suffi­cient to encourage me against the great­est difficulties; and to have the pro­priety of your Ladiship, is an honor, for which no enterprise is too great. You speak as if you would do as you say, replied Madam de S. André, and in that confidence I shall tell you the means by which you may merit the recompence that I design for you. I loved the Prince of Condé; you know it well enough, and the outrage that [Page 179]he caused to be committed upon you (which it is now high time to revenge) made all the World believe he had as much affection for me. I know it is ungrateful to you, to be remembered of this point, but I do it on purpose to awaken your resentment: It is no matter to which of us the vengeance belongs, so you take from him that life which he had long since resigned, had I been so wise as to have left him to his destiny.

Consider what it is you propose Madam, replied Montesquiou, and when your first transports are passed, will you not repent of your commands? Do you think me so fickle, replied Madam de S. André, and that my heart is so poor to forgive the injuries that are done me? If I repent of any thing, it will be, that I concerned my self for a perfidious person, unworthy of my care and solicitude; that I sa­crificed all my pains to an ungrateful man, who remembers so ill those fa­vors [Page 180]which he never deserved; and in short, That I have pulled upon my self by the force of my generosity, the affront of which I complain to you, and you refuse to revenge. This, said she, is all I have to repent of; but do not think that I will ever do it, of a thing so just, as what I now pursue: The prize that goes along with it, ought to have made you undertake it without farther expostulation; but since you hesitate, I may perhaps have less trouble to perswade another, then to work upon you.

It is enough Madam, replied Mont­tesquiou, I am resolved and ready for what ever you command. I feared least your affection to the Prince, had been still so great as to have prompted you to be the first that should exclaim against me, when the business was done; but I am satisfied now, that your desire is too fervent, not to hear of it with pleasure; and seeing it is me you have chosen for this great ex­ploit, [Page 181]I shall take my measures so pru­dently and pursue them with such cau­tion, as shall not bring you under the least suspition.

I ask no other security of your pro­mise Madam, said he, then your own word. I have too much honor for you to insist upon a Note under your hand, in so ticklish an affair; besides though there is nothing so dear to me in the World, as the price you have been pleased to set upon my service; yet I should think I rendered my self un­worthy of it, if I should stand to se­cure it with so immodest a precau­tion.

This unhappy conversation con­tinued for some time, and ended at last in a promise that Montesquiou reiterated again and again, not to let many days pass before he brought her the news of the death of the Prince of Condé.

Had she known what the Prince of Condé suffered for her, whilest [Page 182]she was conspiring against his life, it is most certain she would never have been carried to so violent a re­solution. He loved her as well as ever, and his kindness to his Wife was cold and indifferent; at first it was no little trouble to the new Princess, but she accustomed her self to it by degrees, and finding that she was not sole Mistress of his heart, we are assured, by very cre­dible Memoires, she made him as lit­tle Master of hers. But which way soever it was, the Prince made seve­ral vain efforts to disintangle him­self with Madam la Mareschalle; but the impossibility of injoying her now, made her appear the more a­miable, and never was his inclina­tion so strong to marry her, as now he had another Wife.

Her visits to the Court were not so frequent as before, least she should meet the Prince, or the new Princess whom she hated as much: [Page 183]But having some occasions where­with she could not dispence, he met her two or three times, and made it his business to accost her; but her care to avoid him, was as great, and succeeded much better. However that was not sufficient to discourage him; he was many times to wait upon her at her Lodgings, but she was never at home for him; and her orders were so exactly ob­served, that as soon as any of his Liveries appeared, the Gates were shut up, and no more opened that day.

It troubled him exceedingly to find so much unkindness, yet he could not be so partial, but to know he deserved it. At last pressed by the violence of his passion, he could subsist no longer without seeing her. To live in her displeasure, was a very great torment; and how great soever his offence was, it was less then his remorse.

One Morning when the Porter was more remiss then he should have been, he conveyed himself in at the Gate, and ran directly to the Chamber where he used formerly to see her, supposing he should easi­ly have surprised her; but by ill fortune for him, she had changed her appartment since he saw her last, and having timely notice that the Prince was to visit her, she retired into her Closset, and shut the door to her, resolving he should break it open rather, then she would see him.

This severity did not make him forget the respect which accompani­ed his passion: He conjured her on­ly to let him have the honor to see her; and to oblige her thereunto, he said so many kind things, that signified so much the sincerity of his sorrow, as would infallibly have prevailed, had she been capa­ble of forgiving him. But let him [Page 185]say what he could, he was married to another, and the very thought of that put her into a fury that ren­dered her deaf to all his solicitati­ons. He was a compleat hour beg­ging most earnestly, that she would but grant him the honor to see her, though for as small a time as she pleased; but being after all his im­portunity unable to obtain any answer, but a few angry words which he received with the greatest submission, he retired rather then be troublesome any longer; and within a few days removed to Noy­ers in Bourgogne (which was a House belonging to his new Lady) to see if absence, that is one of the usual remedies of love, could cure him of that wherewith he was so cruelly tormented.

He had not been there long, be­fore two Soldiers were apprehended, measuring the Wall of the Castle, which they designed to have scaled. [Page 186]They were brought in and exami­ned, and finding themselves in dan­ger to be very ill treated, unless they discovered the truth, they confessed they had done it by order from the Queen, and the Cardinal of Lorraine, who had resolved to surprise and exterminate all the Hu­gonots; and that they might do it with more ease, it was concluded to begin with the Prince of Condé, as their head. It is most certain, this was resolved in Council, and the Admiral who was at Taulay, with Dandelot his Brother (to whom that House belonged) had already some inkling of it. The Prince not be­ing far from them, dispatched a Courrier immediately, which con­firmed them much in what they were but jealous of before, because they had had it from a person of but ordinary quality. Had they not instantly united and retired out of that Province, they had been cir­cumvented [Page 187]by a party of Horse, which came into Bourgogne on pur­pose; but when the said party found they were gone with a Con­voy of an hundred and fifty Horse, they pursued them as far as the Ri­ver Loire, where they had passed at a Ford not far from Sancere. Scarce was the Prince clear of the River, and firm on the other side, before the Kings Troops appeared, and might easily have got over at the same Ford. But Evening com­ing on, the Officers thought it more convenient to defer it till the next Morning, and in the Night the Ri­ver swelled so violently, that it was not fordable any where; which putting a stop to the pursuit of the Catholicks, the Hugonots looked upon their preservation as a miracle. The Prince, the Admiral, and Dan­delot, being so strangely delivered, retreated to Rochel, where in a few days time they had a general Ren­dezvous [Page 188]of all their own Troops, and Four thousand Men brought to them by the Queen of Navarre. The Kings Army commanded by the Duke of Anjou, remained in Cam­pagne; and Montesquiou who ac­companied his Master, left not Pa­ris without renewing to Madam la Mareschalle de S. André, the pro­mises which he had made to sacrifice the life of the Prince of Condé to her resentment; but his flowness had made her often repent, that she had committed the care of her re­venge to a Man of so little resolu­tion.

She attended with great impa­tience to hear the news of what he had done, when one Afternoon, as she returned from some visits, which she had been making abroad, her Porter delivered her a Letter di­rected to her, and brought by one of the ordinary Messengers of the Post-Office. The character of the [Page 189]superscription, and the Seal being unknown to her, she opened it, and was exceedingly surprised to find it came from the Prince of Condé: Her first thoughts were to tear it without reading, but her curiosity to know what he could expect after so great infidelity, overpowred her indignation, and prevailed with her to read it: But all the choller wherewith she had fortified her self (least by seeing it, she should be any ways melted) could not defend her against the love that he expressed in it. The poor Prince, who to speak proper­ly, rather endured, then took com­fort in his life (so unhappy he thought himself to have contracted the hatred of his Mistress) had writ­ten to her (as his last remedy) from Rochel, to endeavor, if possible, to mollifie her: And if he could not succeed, his resolution was to pre­cipitate himself into so many despe­rate [Page 190]actions, as would in proba­bility afford him some person that might revenge his infidelity.

This Letter was writ so much like a Gentleman; his excuses so cordial, his contrition so likely, and something else there was so passionate and moving, that alto­gether, they cost Madam la Mares­challe no few tears before she could read them thorow: Instead of that fury which had possessed her be­fore, the fear least Montesquiou should be too faithful in the exe­cution of her commands, was the thing which wholly took up her thoughts: She writ to him with all speed, and desired him to suspend the execution of his promise till farther order.

He received the Letter, and found by the alteration of her stile, that the detestation which Madam la Mareschalle had had for the Prince, began to abate, and that [Page 191]if ever they came together, their love would certainly revive.

To make her believe her Letter never came to his hands, he would give her no answer, but accused his own laziness for not having kill­ed the Prince sooner.

Madam la Mareschalle (who per­haps guessed what was the design of his silence) writ again to Montes­quiou, and forbad him in express terms to execute a command that she had laid upon him in her rage, but disapproved since she had re­covered the use of her Reason. This Letter exasperated Montes­quiou so highly, that what she in­tended to prevent the destruction of the Prince, hastned it; and made her Agent the more vigorous in its execution.

In short, finding Montesquiou would return her no answer, but still continued his silence, she dis­patched a Messenger to him on pur­pose [Page 192]with a third Letter, which she charged him to deliver into his own hand, to take from him all possibi­lity of excuse.

In the mean time the two Armies approached and came within sight of one another, where they lay for a fortnight together skirmishing, and in defiance. The Kings Army was more numerous by one third, but the Princes Army consisted of better and more resolute men; and therefore they promised themselves the victory, if they could bring the Enemy to a Field Battle.

The Prince, who knew nothing of what passed in the mind of Ma­dam de S. André, and was weary of his life, because he thought it was become indifferent to her, advised by all means to press the Enemy to a Battle, which the Duke of Anjou being young, and of less experi­ence, declined. However after se­veral charges and pickeerings, which [Page 193]did but tire and harrass their Troops, an opportunity was offered, and they must of necessity come to a general engagement.

The Hugonots were quartered at large along the River de Charente, and had possession of the Bridges at Jarnac and Chasteau-Neuf, which was a great disadvantage to the Enemy.

Armand de Gontaud-Biron who commanded under the Duke of An­jou, undertook to beat them from their Posts, but not being able to carry Jarnac by surprise, he turned toward Chasteau-Neuf, which the Hugonots deserted after they had broken down the Bridge; but that was repaired again so suddenly by the care of Monsieur Biron, that the Kings Army was passed over be­fore the Hugonots perceived it.

The Princes Army being divided and dispersed in several places, the Admiral sent Orders to the Foot to [Page 194]draw off towards Bassac, whilest the Cavalry got together from their farthest Quarters: But Monsieur Biron took advantage of their dis­order, and disturbed their Retreat so vigorously, that they had much to do to defend themselves. The Admiral was making head against Biron, and the Prince of Condé im­ployed in favoring the Retreat of his Troops, when the Admiral send­ing him word to advance, and that there was need of his presence; he came in upon a gallop to his releif, and fought with such resolution, that in spight of the inequality of his Forces, he disingaged the Ad­miral, and drew upon himself the whole fury of the Catholicks. At length (not able to bear up against so great a number of his Enemies, and (to increase his misfortunes) his Horse being wounded, and falling down under him at the same time) he presented his Gantlet to a Gentle­man [Page 195]called Argence, who received him with all the respect that was due to his quality.

The report of his being taken, was carried immediately to the Duke of Anjou, and the unlucky Montesquiou being by, and under­standing that the Prince's Leg was broke with the kick of a Horse, and that in that condition, it was not possible for him to defend himself; he clapped Spurs to his Horse, and gallopping up to him, found him sitting under a Bush, in which posture, pulling out one of his Pistols, he shot him into the head, and killed him. This is mentioned by our Historians, as one of the most infamous Actions that was ever committed.

The Prince died without speak­ing one word; and although the Messenger which was sent from Madam la Mareschalle made all possible speed, yet the business [Page 196]was done before her Letter arri­ved.

The first news of that disaster put her into an absolute distracti­on, but having recollected her self, by degrees she fell into a settled and deliberate melancholly that lasted as long as she lived; and when, at his return, Montesquiou came to demand his recompence, she looked upon him as the greatest Monster that Nature had ever pro­duced.

The Hugonots having lost so con­siderable a Cheif, made but little progress in their affairs afterward. Dandelot died a while after, some say of the grief, he had conceived, for the death of the Prince of Condé; and others say, he died of a Pestilential Feaver. The Admiral lived till the massacre at Paris, up­on S. Bartholomews day, of which, he being the principal cause, was made the principal victime.