He suffered much, and survived only a few days.

No wonder Queen Jeanne sent her little son, Henry, to a cottage, to be nursed, where there was no upper story! Nothing can be less imposing, on the interior side of the court, than the castle of Pau: ruined, dilapidated buildings surround the rugged old well which stands in the centre; towers and _tourelles_, of various shapes, lift their grey and green and damp-stained heads in different angles; low door-ways, encumbered with dust and rubbish, open their dark mouths along the side opposite the red square tower of Gaston Phoebus, which frowns at its equally grim brother, whose mysterious history no one knows; other doors and windows are finely-sculptured; and medallions, much defaced, adorn the walls.
On these antique towers, it is said the thunder never fell but once--_that once_ was on the 14th of May, 1610, at the very moment when the steel of Ravaillac found the heart of Henry of Navarre.

The event is thus recorded:-- "A fearful storm burst over the town of Pau on this day; a thunderbolt fell, and defaced the royal arms over the castle-gateway; and a fine bull, which was called _the King_, from its stately appearance, the chief of a herd called _the royal herd_, terrified by the noise and clamour, precipitated itself over the walls into the ditch of the castle, and was killed.

The people, hurrying to the spot, called out The _King_ is dead! The news of the fatal event in Paris reached Pau soon after, and they found their loss indeed irreparable." The shades of Henry and Sully are said sometimes _to walk_ along the ramparts even now; and it was formerly believed that near the great reservoir, into which it was said Queen Jeanne used to have her Catholic prisoners thrown, numerous ghosts of injured men might be seen flitting to and fro.

One evening I was returning, later than usual, from the promenade in the park, and had paused so often on my way to observe the effect of the purple and rosy-tinted mountains glowing with the last rays of sunset, that it was in quite a dim light that I reached the spot beneath which the ivied head of the old, ruined, red Tour de la Monnaie shows the rents of its _machicoulis_.