Nothing could be more pathetic than the isolated position in which he found himself, standing thus as he did on the threshold of a mighty undertaking in which he was the central figure, an object for the world to gaze upon with palpitating interest.

At his hearth in the Louvre were no household gods.

Danger lurked behind every tapestry in that magnificent old palace.

A nameless dread dogged his footsteps through those resounding corridors.
And by an exquisite refinement in torture the possible father of several of his children not only dictated to the Queen perpetual outbreaks of frantic jealousy against her husband, but moved her to refuse with suspicion any food and drink offered her by his hands.

The Concini's would even with unparalleled and ingenious effrontery induce her to make use of the kitchen arrangements in their apartments for the preparation of her daily meals?
Driven from house and home, Henry almost lived at the Arsenal.