"No, no," said the King impatiently; "remain in the palace, and see that everything goes on as I have ordered, and with as much speed as possible."
"At least, Sire, suffer my guards to attend you," urged De Vitry.
"I will neither take you nor your guards," was the abrupt reply; "I want no one near me."
And upon this command the disappointed courtier was compelled to withdraw.
"Drive from the palace," shouted the monarch in a tone of excitement; "in the direction of the Hôtel de Longueville." The carriage started at a rapid pace, and it had no sooner reached the spot indicated, than he again exclaimed, "And now to the Cross of Trahoir." [18] Arrived at this wretched nook, he next desired to be driven to the Cemetery of the Innocents, for which purpose it was necessary to pass from the Rue St. Honoré into that of La Ferronnerie, which was at that period extremely narrow, and rendered still more so by the numerous shops built against the cemetery wall. On reaching this point the progress of the royal carriage was impeded by two heavily-laden waggons, and the footmen who had hitherto run beside it pressed forward towards the end of the thoroughfare in order to rejoin it at the other extremity of the street. Two attendants only remained at their station, one of whom was employed in hastening the movements of the embarrassed waggoners, while the other was engaged in arranging some portion of his dress which had become displaced. At this moment a man advanced towards the King's equipage, wrapped in a wide mantle, and carefully picked his way between the trading-booths and the carriage, which he had no sooner reached than, placing one of his feet on a spoke of the wheel, and the other on a doorstep, he plunged a knife into the side of the King, who was at that moment engaged in reading a letter.
As he felt the blow Henry exclaimed, "I am stabbed!" While he uttered the words, he flung up his arms, an action by which the assassin profited to take a surer and more fatal aim; and before the horror-stricken companions of the unfortunate monarch could make a movement to prevent it, a second thrust pierced the lobe of his heart. The blood gushed in torrents from his mouth, and from the wound itself, when again the remorseless knife descended, but only to become entangled in the sleeve of the Duc d'Epernon;[19] while with one thick and choking sob Henri IV fell back a corpse.
No one had seen by what hand the King had fallen; and had the regicide flung away his weapon, he might have stood unquestioned among the crowd which instantly collected upon seeing the six nobles who had accompanied the sovereign spring to the ground, with loud exclamations of dismay; but Ravaillac[20] stood firm, with his reeking and two-edged knife still in his hand, and avowed his crime with a boldness which in a better cause would have savoured of heroism.[21]
Meanwhile one of the royal party, perceiving that Henry remained perfectly motionless, while the carriage was inundated with his blood, incautiously exclaimed, "The King is dead!" upon which a loud wail arose from the assembled spectators; and the agitation of the crowd became so excessive that the Duc d'Epernon called loudly for a draught of wine, asserting that his Majesty was faint from a hurt, and required refreshment. A number of the inhabitants of the adjacent houses thereupon hastened to procure the desired beverage; while the companions of the monarch, profiting by the movement, let fall the leathern curtains of the coach, and informed the populace that they must immediately convey his Majesty to the Louvre in order to secure proper assistance.[22] This was done with all speed, while as they passed through the city the attendants replied to the inquiries which were made on every side that the King was merely wounded; and on arriving at the palace the body was stretched upon a bed, without having been cleansed or clothed, and in this state it remained for several hours, exposed to the gaze of all who thought proper to visit the chamber of death.[23]
During this time the Queen, fatigued by her previous exertions, was lying upon a sofa in her private cabinet, in order to recruit her strength against the evening, which was, as we have shown, to have been one of gaiety and gala, when her affrighted attendants hastened to convey to her the fatal tidings of her widowhood. In a paroxysm of uncontrollable anguish she rushed towards the door of the closet, and was about to make her way to the chamber in which the royal body had been deposited, when she was met by the Chancellor, to whom the fearful news had already been communicated, and who obstructed her passage.