Some wild talk there was of democracy and republicanism after the manner of Switzerland, and of dividing France into cantons--and there was an earnest desire on the part of every grandee, every general, every soldier of fortune, to carve out a portion of French territory with his sword, and to appropriate it for himself and his heirs.

Disintegration was making rapid progress, and the epoch of the last Valois seemed mare dark and barbarous than the times of the degenerate Carlovingians had been.

The letter-writer of the Escorial, who had earnestly warned his faithful Mucio, week after week, that dangers were impending over him, and that "some trick would be played upon him," should he venture into the royal presence, now acquiesced in his assassination, and placidly busied himself with fresh combinations and newer tools.
Baked, hunted, scorned by all beside, the luckless Henry now threw himself into the arms of the Bearnese--the man who could and would have protected him long before, had the King been capable of understanding their relative positions and his own true interests.

Could the Valois have conceived the thought of religious toleration, his throne even then might have been safe.

But he preferred playing the game of the priests and bigots, who execrated his name and were bent upon his destruction.