converse with the world of spirits, and derived much sound advice as to
the true course of action to be pursued between her son and Philip, and
between the politicians and the League. But, in spite of these various
sources of instruction, Catharine--was somewhat perplexed, now that
decisive action seemed necessary--a dethronement and a new massacre
impending, and judicious compromise difficult. So after a hurried
conversation with Mucio, who insisted on an interview with the King, she
set forth for the Louvre, the Duke lounging calmly by the aide of her,
sedan chair, on foot, receiving the homage of the populace, as men,
women, and children together, they swarmed around him as he walked,
kissing his garments, and rending the air with their shouts. For that
wolfish mob of Paris, which had once lapped the blood of ten thousand
Huguenots in a single night, and was again rabid with thirst, was most
docile and fawning to the great Balafre. It grovelled before him, it
hung upon his look, it licked his hand, and, at the lifting of his
finger, or the glance of his eye, would have sprung at the throat of King
or Queen-Mother, minister, or minion, and devoured them all before his
eyes. It was longing for the sign, for, much as Paris adored and was
besotted with Guise and the League, even more, if possible, did it hate
those godless politicians, who had grown fat on extortions from the poor,
and who had converted their substance into the daily bread of luxury.

Nevertheless the city was full of armed men, Swiss and German
mercenaries, and burgher guards, sworn to fidelity to the throne. The
place might have been swept clean, at that moment, of rebels who were not
yet armed or fortified in their positions. The Lord had delivered Guise
into Henry's hands. "Oh, the madman!"--cried Sixtus V., when he heard
that the Duke had gone to Paris, "thus to put himself into the clutches
of the King whom he had so deeply offended!" And, "Oh, the wretched
coward, the imbecile?" he added, when he heard how the King had dealt