The indignation and chagrin of Henry may be imagined. Independently of the promised bride and sovereignty over a vast portion of France being thus rudely snatched from him, his position was by no means encouraging. He had only about 25,000 men to enable him to hold his conquests and to pursue them to completion. Whilst Burgundy and the Dauphin were uniting all the power of France to oppose him, his own subjects at home were beginning to grumble at the expenditure of the war, and, as they saw it likely to succeed in reducing France, to look with dismay on such a result as likely to remove the seat of government to Paris, and make a province of England. The Scots, he found, were at the same time entering into treaty with the Dauphin against him, and the Kings of Castile and Aragon had already fitted out a great armament, with which they scoured the coasts of Guienne and menaced Bayonne.

The French were in ecstasies of delight at the turn which affairs had taken; in every quarter of the kingdom vigorous efforts were made to take advantage of it, and the army of Henry was proportionably depressed.

But Henry—though, in addition to this insolent display of perfidy, his treasury was very low—never for a moment suffered an air of doubt or despondency to shade his countenance, much less an expression of it to escape him. He immediately ordered his army to advance on Paris, crossed the Seine, fell on the town of Pontoise, and took it. The leaders of the Burgundian party, after accomplishing their agreement with the Dauphin, had quitted it, and Burgundy himself was at St. Denis; but even there he did not deem himself safe, and hastily retreated to Troyes, carrying the poor King of France with him.

In the meantime, the victorious troops of Henry appeared before the gates of the capital, which was left almost destitute of soldiers, and must soon fall into the hands of the enemy if not relieved. The English beat up the whole neighbourhood, and seized the supplies which should have entered the city, where famine and fever were the only reigning powers. So far from any real union having taken place betwixt the Burgundians and the Dauphin, they were paralysed by Henry's rapid pursuit of them, and were too conscious of internal hatred and treachery to approach each other. Two months had already elapsed since the much-vaunted union, and Burgundy was still unavailingly entreating the Dauphin to join his father's council at Troyes, and the Dauphin recommending Burgundy and the queen to meet him at Montereau-sur-Yonne. As neither would move, the influence of Madame de Giac was again invoked, who succeeded in prevailing on the duke to go as far as Bray-sur-Seine, only two leagues from Montereau. Having succeeded so far, fitting instruments were then chosen to induce the unfortunate Burgundy to proceed to Montereau to an interview with the Dauphin, for that base prince would not budge a step out of his safe quarters to bring about this necessary interview. At length a meeting was arranged by Tannegui du Châtel, a leading Orleanist.

On approaching the town, Burgundy sent to announce to the Dauphin his arrival, when he was speedily attended by Tannegui du Châtel, who brought him from the Dauphin the most solemn assurances, "on the word of a prince," that no injury should be offered to him or his. It was agreed that he should take only ten knights with him, and that the Dauphin should bring only the same number on his side. The meeting was to take place on the bridge, which was to be guarded at the end by which he entered by his own troops, and at the other by those of the Dauphin. Before proceeding, the duke learned that three barriers were drawn across the bridge with a gate in each; this appeared to excite his suspicion, and at this moment one of his valets, who had been into the castle to make preparations for the reception of the duke and his train, came in haste and warned him not to go upon the bridge, as he would assuredly be slain or taken prisoner. On this the duke, turning to Tannegui, said, "How is this? You have pledged your honour for our safety, but do you say true?" The traitor swore he would die himself rather than permit any injury to the duke, and the unfortunate victim went on.

HENRY'S WOOING OF THE PRINCESS CATHERINE.

[[See larger version]]

Yet again, as he had dismounted, and was walking to the bridge, another of his servants rushed up and implored him to remain, for he had seen throngs of armed men collecting on the other side of the river. On this the duke paused, and sent forward the Sieur de Giac to see if it were so, but the false man reported that the whole was a fiction: and Tannegui urged the duke to make haste, for his master had been waiting for him more than an hour. This decided the matter; the duke hurried forward, and no sooner had he passed the first gate on the bridge with his attendants, than it was closed and secured behind him, and so the second. Once more the suspicions of the duke being roused, he laid his hand on Tannegui, and said, "Here is what I trust in." It was a deadly trust. "Let us hasten," said Tannegui, "to my lord the Dauphin." They pushed forward towards the next barrier, where the Dauphin was standing, and on the duke kneeling with his velvet cap in his hand, he was suddenly struck down from behind by the villain who had lured him on by every sacred assurance. He was speedily despatched; one of his followers, the Sieur de Navailles, was killed also by Tannegui as he attempted to defend his master. The Lord of Neufchâtel darted away, sprang over the barriers, and escaped; the rest of the attendants were surrounded, overpowered, and seized. While this was going on, the soldiers of the Dauphin, of whom Burgundy had been warned by his faithful servants, rushed from their hiding-place, scoured over the bridge, and fell upon the duke's followers. These, thus taken by surprise, fled, and got back to Bray.

The horror which this most detestable deed excited throughout France, familiar as it was with crimes and tragedies, was intense. One burst of execration was heard throughout the country against the Dauphin. That a young man of seventeen could stand calmly and see so vile a murder perpetrated—a murder which, it was plain, had been planned in his own councils—promised but a gloomy future to France. The people vowed to renounce all allegiance to him, or regard for his power. The Parisians in particular swore vengeance on him and his accomplices. They demanded a truce of the English, sent in all haste for the Count of Charolais, the son of their murdered leader, and demanded immediate alliance with the English, as the most certain means of exterminating the diabolical faction of the Dauphin.