At last, at Plessis les Tours, the Bearnese, in his shabby old chamois jacket and his well-dinted cuirass took the silken Henry in his arms, and the two--the hero and the fribble--swearing eternal friendship, proceeded to besiege Paris.

A few weeks later, the dagger of Jacques Clement put an end for ever to, the line of Valois.

Luckless Henry III.

slept with his forefathers, and Henry of Bourbon and Navarre proclaimed himself King of France.

Catharine and her four sons had all past away at last, and it would be a daring and a dexterous schemer who should now tear the crown, for which he had so long and so patiently waited, from the iron grasp of the Bearnese.