Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 58, No. 362, December 1845

A MOTHER TO HER FORSAKEN CHILD

 
My child – my first-born! Oh, I weep
To think of thee – thy bitter lot!
The fair fond babe that strives to creep
Unto the breast where thou art not,
Awakes a piercing pang within,
And calls to mind thy heavy wrong.
Alas! I weep not for my sin —
To thy dark lot these tears belong.
 
 
Thy little arms stretch forth in vain
To meet a mother's fond embrace;
Alas! in weariness or pain,
Thou gazest on a hireling's face.
I left thee in thy rosy sleep —
I dared not then kneel down to bless;
Now – now, albeit thou may'st weep,
Thou canst not to my bosom press.
 
 
My child! though beauty tint thy cheek,
A deeper dye its bloom will claim,
When lips all pitiless shall speak
Thy mournful legacy of shame.
Perchance, when love shall gently steal
To thy young breast all pure as snow,
This cruel thought shall wreck thy weal,
The mother's guilt doth lurk below.
 

J. D.

SUMMER NOONTIDE

 
Unruffled the pure ether shines,
O'er the blue flood no vapour sails,
Bloom-laden are the clinging vines,
All odour-fraught the vales.
 
 
There's not a ripple on the main,
There's not a breath to stir the leaves,
The sunlight falls upon the plain
Beside the silent sheaves.
 
 
The drowsy herd forget to crop,
The bee is cradled in the balm:
If but one little leaf should drop,
'Twould break the sacred calm.
 
 
From the wide sea leaps up no voice,
Mute is the forest, mute the rill;
Whilst the glad earth sang forth Rejoice,
God's whisper said —Be still.
 
 
Her pulses in a lull of rest,
In hush submissive Nature lies,
With folded palms upon her breast,
Dreaming of yon fair skies.
 

J. D.

CLARA

 
I would not we should meet again —
We twain who loved so fond,
Although through years and years afar,
I wish'd for nought beyond.
 
 
Yet do I love thee none the less;
And aye to me it seems,
There's not on earth so fair a thing
As thou art in my dreams.
 
 
All, all hath darkly changed beside,
Grown old, or stern, or chill —
All, save one hoarded spring-tide gleam,
Thy smile that haunts me still!
 
 
My brow is but the register
Of youth's and joy's decline;
I would not trace such record too
Deep graven upon thine.
 
 
I would not see how rudely Time
Hath dealt with all thy store
Of bloom and promise – 'tis enough
To know the harvest's o'er.
 
 
I would not that one glance to-day,
One glance through clouds and tears,
Should mar the image in my soul
That love hath shrined for years.
 

J. D.

SECLUSION

 
The heart in sacred peace may dwell,
Apart from convent gloom —
To matins and to vespers rise,
'Mid nature's song and bloom:
 
 
Or in the busy haunts of life,
In gay or restless scene,
In sanctuary calm abide,
As vestal saint serene.
 
 
It is the pure and holy thought,
The spotless veil within,
That screens pollution from the breast,
And hides a world of sin.
 

J. D.

LAST HOURS OF A REIGN

A Tale in Two Parts. – Part I

Chapter I

 
"Let's see the devil's writ.
What have we here?"
 

* * * * *

"First of the King. What shall of him become?"

Shakspeare.

"A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon."

Idem.

It was in the month of May 1574, and in the city of Paris, that, at an hour of the night which in these days might be considered somewhat early, but which at that period was already late, two personages were seated in a gloomy room, belonging to a small and ancient hotel, at no great distance from the old palace of the Louvre, with which it was supposed to communicate by courts and passages little known and seldom used.

One of these personages was a woman of middle age, whose form, although full, was peculiarly well made, and whose delicate but well fleshed hands were of striking beauty. The fair face was full and fat, but very pale; the eyes were fine and dark, and the whole expression of her physiognomy was in general calm, almost to mildness. But yet there lurked a haughty air on that pale brow; and at times a look of searching inquisitiveness, amounting almost to cunning, shot from those dark eyes. Her ample dress was entirely black, and unrelieved by any of the embroidery or ornament so much lavished upon the dress of the higher classes at that time; a pair of long white ruffles turned back upon the sleeve, and a large standing collar of spotless purity, alone gave light to the dark picture of her form. Upon her head she wore a sort of skull-cap of black velvet, descending with a sharp peak upon her forehead – the cowl-like air of which might almost have given her the appearance of the superior of some monastic community, had not the cold imperious physiognomy of the abbess been modified by a frequent bland smile, which showed her power of assuming the arts of seduction at will, and her practice of courts. She leaned her arms upon the table, whilst she studied with evident curiosity every movement of her companion, who was engaged in poring, by the light of a lamp, over a variety of strange manuscripts, all covered with the figures, cyphers, and hieroglyphics used in cabalistic calculations.

This other personage was a man, whose appearance of age seemed to be more studied than real. His grey hair, contrary to the custom of the times, fell in thick locks upon his shoulders; and a white beard swept his dark velvet robe, which was fashioned to bestow upon him an air of priestly dignity; but his face was florid, and full of vigour, and the few wrinkles were furrowed only upon his brow.

Around the room, the dark old panels of which, unrelieved by pictures and hangings, rendered it gloomy and severe, were scattered books and instruments, such as were used by the astronomers, or rather astrologers, of the day, and a variety of other objects of a bizarre and mysterious form, which, as the light of the lamp flickered feebly upon them, might have been taken, in their dark nooks, for the crouching forms of familiar imps, attendant upon a sorcerer. After some study of his manuscripts, the old man shook his head, and, rising, walked to the window, which stood open upon a heavy stone balcony. The night was bright and calm; not a cloud, not a vapour dimmed the glitter of the countless myriads of stars in the firmament; and the moon poured down a flood of light upon the roofs of the surrounding houses, and on the dark towers of the not far distant Louvre, which seemed quietly sleeping in the mild night-air, whilst within were fermenting passions, many and dark, like the troubled dreams of the apparently tranquil sleeper. As the old man stepped upon the balcony, he turned up his head with an assumed air of inspiration to the sky, and considered the stars long and in silence. The female had also risen and followed him to the window; but she remained cautiously in the shadow of the interior of the room, whence she watched with increasing interest the face of the astrologer. Again, after this study of the stars, the old man returned to his table, and began to trace new figures in various corners of the patterned horoscopes, and make new calculations. The female stood before him, resting her hands upon the table, awaiting with patience the result of these mysteries of the cabala.

"Each new experience verifies the former," said the astrologer, raising up his head at last. "The truth cannot be concealed from your majesty. His hours are numbered – he cannot live long."

"And it is of a surety he, of whom the stars thus speak?" enquired the female thus addressed, without emotion.

"The horoscopes all clash and cross each other in many lines," answered the astrologer: "but they are not confounded with his. The horoscope of near and inevitable death is that of your son Charles, the King."

"I know that he must die," said the Queen-mother coldly, sitting down.

The astrologer raised for an instant his deep-set, but piercing grey eyes, to the pale, passionless face of the Queen, as if he could have read the thoughts passing within. There was almost a sneer upon his lip, as though he would have said, that perhaps none knew it better; but that expression flickered only, like a passing flash of faint summer lightning, and he quickly resumed —

"But about this point of death are centred many confused and jarring lines in an inextricable web; and bright as they look to vulgar eyes, yon stars in the heavens shine with a lurid light to those who know to look upon them with the eyes of science; and upon their path is a dim trail of blood – troubled and harassed shall be the last hours of this reign."

"But what shall be the issue, Ruggieri?" said the Queen eagerly. "Since Charles must die, I must resign myself to the will of destiny," she added, with an air of pious humility; and then, as if throwing aside a mask which she thought needless before the astrologer, she continued with a bitterness which amounted almost to passion in one externally so cold – "Since Charles must die, he can be spared. He has thrown off my maternal authority; and with the obstinacy of suspicion, he has thwarted all my efforts to resume that power which he has wrested from me, and which his weak hands wield so ill. He has been taught to look upon me with mistrust; in vain I have combated this influence, and if it grow upon him, mistrust will ripen into hate. He regrets that great master-stroke of policy, which, by destroying all those cursed Huguenots, delivered us at one blow from our most deadly enemies. He has spoken of it with horror. He has dared to blame me. He has taken Henry of Navarre, the recusant Huguenot, the false wavering Catholic, to his counsels lately. He is my son no longer, since he no longer acknowledges his mother's will: and he can be spared! But when he is gone, what shall be the issue, Ruggieri? how stand the other horoscopes?"

"The stars of the two Henrys rise together in the heavens" replied the Queen's astrologer and confidant. "Before them stands a house of double glory, which promises a double crown; but the order of the heavens is not such that I can read as yet, which of the two shall first enter it, or enter it alone."

"A double crown!" said the Queen musingly. "Henry of Anjou, my son, is king of Poland, and on his brother's death is rightful king of France. Yes, and he shall be king of France, and wear its crown. Henry never thwarted his mother's will, he was ever pliant as a reed to do her bidding; and when he is king, Catherine of Medicis may again resume the reins of power. You had predicted that he would soon return to France; and I promised him he should return, when unwillingly he accepted that barbarian crown, which Charles' selfish policy forced upon him, in order to rid himself of a brother whom he hated as a rival – hated because I loved him. Yes, he shall return to resume his rightful crown – a double crown! But Henry of Navarre also wears a crown, although it be a barren one – although the kingdom of Navarre bestow upon him a mere empty title. Shall it be his – the double crown? Oh! no! no! The stars cannot surely say it. Should all my sons die childless, it is his by right. But they shall not die to leave him their heir. No! sooner shall the last means be applied, and the detested son perish, as did his hated mother, by one of those incomprehensible diseases for which medicine has no cure. A double crown! Shall his be the crown of France also? Never! Ah! little did I think, Ruggieri, when I bestowed upon him my daughter Margaret's hand, and thus lured him and his abhorred party to the court to finish them with one blow, that Margaret of Valois would become a traitress to her own mother, and protect a husband whom she accepted so unwillingly! But Margaret is ambitious for her husband, although she loves him not, although she loves another: the two would wish to thwart her brothers of their birthright, that she might wear their crown on her own brow. Through her intervention, Henry of Navarre has escaped me. He has outlived the massacre of that night of triumph, when all his party perished; and now Charles loves him, and calls him 'upright, honest Henry,' and if I contend not with all the last remnants of my broken power, my foolish son, upon his death-bed, may place the regency in his hands, and deprive his scorned and ill-used mother of her rights. The regency! Ah! lies there the double crown? Ah! Ruggieri, Ruggieri, why can you only tell me thus far and no further?"

"Madam," replied the wary astrologer, "the stars run in their slow unerring course. We cannot compel their path; we can only read their dictates."

Catherine de Medicis rose and approached the window, through which she contemplated the face of the bright heavens.

"Mysterious orbs of light," she said, stretching forth her arms – "ye who rule our destinies, roll on, roll on, and tarry not. Accomplish your great task of fate; but be it quickly, that I may know what awaits me in that secret scroll spread out above on which ye write the future. Let me learn the good, that I may be prepared to greet it – the ill, that I may know how to parry it."

Strange was the compound of that credulous mind, which, whilst it sought in the stars the announcement of an inevitable fate, hoped to find in its own resources the means of avoiding it – which, whilst it listened to their supposed dictates as a slave, strove to command them as a mistress.

"And the fourth horoscope that I have bid you draw?" said the Queen, returning to the astrologer. "How stands it?"

"The star of your youngest son, the Duke of Alençon, is towering also to its culminating point," replied the old man, looking over the papers before him. "But it is nebulous and dim, and shines only by a borrowed light – that of another star which rises with it to the zenith. They both pursue the same path; and if the star of Alençon reach that house of glory to which it tends, that other star will shine with such a lustre as shall dim all other lights, however bright and glorious they now may be."

"Ha! is it so?" said Catherine thoughtfully. "Alençon conspires also to catch the tottering crown which falls from the dying head of Charles. But he is too weak and wavering to pursue a steady purpose. He is led, Ruggieri – he is led. He is taught to believe that since his elder brother has chosen the crown of Poland, it is his to claim the throne which death will soon leave vacant. But he wants firmness of will – it is another that guides his feeble hand. That star which aspires to follow in the track of Alençon – I know it well, Ruggieri. It is that of the ambitious favourite of my youngest son, of Philip de la Mole. It is he who pushes him on. It is he who would see his master on the throne, in order to throne it in his place. He has that influence over Alençon which the mother possesses no longer; and were Alençon king, it would be Philip de la Mole who would rule the destinies of France, not Catherine de Medicis. Beneath that exterior of thoughtless levity, lie a bold spirit and an ardent ambition. He is an enemy not to be despised; and he shall be provided for. Alençon protects him – my foolish Margaret loves him – but there are still means to be employed which may curdle love to hate, and poison the secret cup of sympathy. They shall be employed. Ha! Alençon would be king, and Philip de la Mole would lord it over the spirits of the house of Medicis. But they must be bold indeed who would contend with Catherine. Pursue, Ruggieri, pursue. This star, which way does it tend?"

"It aspires to the zenith, madam," replied the astrologer. "But, as I have said, upon the track there is a trail of blood."

Catherine smiled.

"My youngest son has already been here to consult you; I think you told me?" she said, with an enquiring look to the astrologer.

"Among others, who have come disguised and masked, to seek to read their destinies in the skies, I have thought to recognise Monseigneur the Duke of Alençon," replied Ruggieri. "He was accompanied by a tall young man, of gay exterior and proud bearing."

"It is the very man!" exclaimed the Queen. "And do they come again?"

"I left their horoscope undetermined," replied the astrologer, "and they must come to seek an answer to my researches in the stars."

"Let the stars lie, Ruggieri – do you hear?" pursued Catherine. "Whatever the stars may say, you must promise them every success in whatever enterprise they may undertake. You must excite their highest hopes. Push them on in their mad career, that their plans may be developed. Catherine will know how to crush them."

"It shall be as your majesty desires," said the astrologer.

As the Queen and the astrologer still conferred, a loud knocking at the outer gate caused them to pause. Steps were heard ascending the hollow-sounding staircase.

"I will dismiss these importunate visitors," said Ruggieri.

"No," said Catherine, "admit them; and if it be really they you expect, leave them alone after a time, and come, by the outer passage, to the secret cabinet: there will I be. I may have directions to give; and, at all events, the cabinet may prove useful, as it has already done."

Impatient knockings now resounded upon the panels of the door, and the Queen-mother, hastily snatching up a black velvet mask and a thick black veil, which hung upon the back of her high carved chair, flung the latter over her head, so as to conceal her features almost as entirely as if she had worn the mask. Ruggieri, in the meantime, had pushed back a part of the panel of the oak walls, and when Catherine had passed through it into a little room beyond, again closed this species of secret door, so effectually that it would have been impossible to discover any trace of the aperture. The astrologer then went to open the outer door. The persons who entered, were two men whose faces were concealed with black velvet masks, commonly worn at the period both by men and women, as well for the purpose of disguise, as for that of preserving the complexion; their bearing, as well as their style of dress, proclaimed them to be young and of courtly habits.

The first who entered was of small stature, and utterly wanting in dignity of movement; and, although precedence into the room seemed to have been given him by a sort of deference, he turned back again to look at his companion, with an evident hesitation of purpose, before he advanced fully into the apartment. The young man who followed him was of tall stature, and of manly but graceful bearing. His step was firm, and his head was carried high; whilst the small velvet cap placed jauntily on one side upon his head, the light brown curling hair of which was boldly pushed back from the broad forehead and temples, according to the fashion of the times, seemed disposed as if purposely to give evidence of a certain gaiety, almost recklessness, of character. The astrologer, after giving them admittance, returned to his table, and sitting down, demanded what might be their bidding at that hour of the night! At his words the smaller, but apparently the more important of the two personages, made a sign to his companion to speak; and the latter, advancing boldly to the table, demanded of the old man whether he did not know him.

"Whether I know you or know you not, matters but little," replied the astrologer; "although few things can be concealed before the eye of science."

At these words the smaller young man shuffled uneasily with his feet, and plucked at the cloak of his companion. Ruggieri continued – "But I will not seek to pierce the mystery of a disguise which can have no control over the ways of destiny. Whether I know you or not, I recognise you well. Already have you been here to enquire into the dark secrets of the future. I told you then, that we must wait to judge the movements of the stars. Would you know further now?"

"That is the purpose of our coming," said the latter of the two young men, to whom the office of spokesman had been given. "We have come, although at this late hour of the night, because the matter presses on which we would know our fate."

"Yes, the matter presses," replied the astrologer; "for I have read the stars, and I have calculated the chances of your destinies."

The smaller personage pressed forward at these words, as if full of eager curiosity. The other maintained the same easy bearing that seemed his usual habit.

The astrologer turned over a variety of mysterious papers, as if searching among them for the ciphers that he needed; then, consulting the pages of a book, he again traced several figures upon a parchment; and at length, after the seeming calculation of some minutes, he raised his head, and addressing himself to the smaller man, said —

"You have an enterprise in hand, young man, upon which not only your own destinies and those of your companion, but of many thousands of your fellow creatures depend! Your enterprise is grand, your destiny is noble."

The young men turned to look at each other; and he, who had as yet not broken silence, said, with an eager palpitating curiosity, although the tones of his voice were ill assured —

"And what say the stars? Will it succeed?"

"Go on, and prosper!" replied the astrologer. "A noble course lies before you. Go on, and success the most brilliant and the most prompt attends you."

"Ha! there is, after all, some truth in your astrology, I am inclined to think!" said the first speaker gaily.

"Why have you doubted, young man?" pursued the astrologer severely. "The stars err not – cannot err."

"Pardon me, father," said the young man with his usual careless air. "I will doubt no further. And we shall succeed?"

"Beyond your utmost hopes. Upon your brow, young man," continued the astrologer, addressing again the smaller person, "descends a circlet of glory, the brilliancy of which shall dazzle every eye. But stay, all is not yet done. The stars thus declare the will of destiny; but yet, in these inscrutable mysteries of fate, it is man's own will that must direct the course of events – it is his own hand must strike the blow. Fatality and human will are bound together as incomprehensibly as soul and body. You must still lend your hand to secure the accomplishment of your own destiny. But our mighty science shall procure for you so powerful a charm, that no earthly power can resist its influence. Stay, I will return shortly." So saying, Ruggieri rose and left the room by the door through which the young men had entered.

"What does he mean?" said the shorter of the young men.

"What matter, Monseigneur!" replied the other. "Does he not promise us unbounded success? I little thought myself, when I accompanied you hither, that my belief in this astrology would grow up so rapidly. Long live the dark science, and the black old gentleman who professes it, when they lighten our path so brilliantly!"

"Let us breathe a little at our ease, until he returns," said he who appeared the more important personage of the two; and throwing himself into a chair, and removing his mask, he discovered the pale face of a young man, who might have been said to possess some beauty, in spite of the irregularity of his features, had not the expression of that face been marred by a pinched and peevish look of weakness and indecision.

His companion followed his example in removing his mask, and the face thus revealed formed a striking contrast to that of the other young man. His complexion was of a clear pale brown, relieved by a flush of animated colour; his brow was fair and noble; his features were finely but not too strongly chiselled. A small dark mustache curled boldly upwards above a beautifully traced and smiling mouth, the character of which was at once resolute and gay, and strangely at variance with the expression of the dark grey eyes, which was more that of tenderness and melancholy. He remained standing before the other personage, with one hand on his hip, in an attitude at once full of ease and deference.

"Did I not right, then, to counsel you as I have done in this matter, my lord duke," he said to the other young man, "since the astrologer, in whom you have all confidence, promises us so unbounded a success: and you give full credence to the announcement of the stars?"

"Yes – yes, Philip," answered the Duke, reclining back in his chair, and rubbing his hands with a sort of internal satisfaction.

"Then let us act at once," continued the young man called Philip. "The King cannot live many days – perhaps not many hours. There is no time to be lost. Henry of Anjou, your elder brother, is far away; the crown of Poland weighs upon his brow. You are present. The troops have been taught to love you. The Huguenot party have confidence in you. The pretensions of Henry of Navarre to the regency must give way before yours. All parties will combine to look upon you as the heir of Charles; and now the very heavens, the very stars above, seem to conspire to make you that which I would you should be. Your fortune, then, is in your own hands."

"Yes. So it is!" replied the Duke.

"Assemble, then, all those attached to your service or your person!"

"I will."

"Let your intention be known among the guards."

"It shall."

"As soon as the King shall have ceased to breathe, seize upon all the gates of the Louvre."

"Yes," continued the Duke, although his voice, so eager the moment before, seemed to tremble at the thought of so much decision of action.

"Declare yourself the Master of the kingdom in full parliament."

"Yes," again replied the young Duke, more weakly. "But" —

"But what – Monseigneur!" exclaimed his companion.

"But," continued the Duke again, with hesitation, "if Henry, my brother, should return – if he should come to claim his crown. You may be sure that our mother, who cares for him alone, will have already sent off messengers to advertise him of Charles's danger, and bid him come!"

"I know she has," replied Philip coolly. "But I have already taken upon myself, without Monseigneur's instructions, for which I could not wait, to send off a sure agent to intercept her courier, to detain him at any price, to destroy his despatches."

"Philip! what have you done?" exclaimed the young Duke, in evident alarm. "Intercept my mother's courier! Dare to disobey my mother! My Mother! You do not know her then."

"Not know her?" answered his companion. "Who in this troubled land of France does not know Catherine of Medicis, her artful wiles, her deadly traits of vengeance? Shake not your head, Monseigneur! You know her too. But, Charles no more, you will have the crown upon your brow – it will be yours to give orders: those who will dare to disobey you will be your rebel subjects. Act, then, as king. If she resist, give orders for her arrest!"

"Arrest my Mother! Who would dare to do it?" said the Duke with agitation.

"I."

"Oh, no – no – La Mole! Never would I take upon myself" —

"Take upon yourself to be a King, if you would be one," said the Duke's confidant, with energy.

"We will speak more of this," hastily interposed the wavering Duke. "Hush! some one comes. It is this Ruggieri!"

In truth the astrologer re-entered the room. In his hand he bore a small object wrapped in a white cloth, which he laid down upon the table; and then, turning to the young men, who had hastily reassumed their masks before he appeared, and who now stood before him, he said —

"The sole great charm that can complete the will of destiny, and assure the success of your great enterprise, lies there before you. Have you no enemy whose death you most earnestly desire, to forward that intent?"

The young men looked at each other; but they both answered, after the hesitation of a moment —

"None!"

"None, upon whose death depends that turn in the wheel of fate that should place you on its summit?"

Both the young men were silent.

"At all events," continued the cunning astrologer, "your destiny depends upon the action of your own hands. This action we must symbol forth in mystery, in order that your destiny be accomplished. Here – take this instrument," he pursued, producing a long gold pin of curious workmanship, which at need might have done the task of a dagger, "and pierce the white cloth that lies before you on the table."

The Duke drew back, and refused the instrument thus offered to him.

"Do I not tell you that the accomplishment of your brilliant destiny depends upon this act?" resumed Ruggieri.

"I know not what this incantation may be," said the timid Duke. "Take it, Philip."

But La Mole, little as he was inclined to the superstitious credulity of the times, seemed not more disposed than his master to lend his hand to an act which had the appearance of being connected with the rites of sorcery, and he also refused. On the reiterated assurances of the astrologer, however, that upon that harmless blow hung the accomplishment of their enterprise, and at the command of the Duke, he took the instrument into his hand, and approached it over the cloth. Again, however, he would have hesitated, and would have withdrawn; but the astrologer seized his hand before he was aware, and, giving it a sharp direction downwards, caused him to plunge the instrument into the object beneath the cloth. La Mole shuddered as he felt it penetrate into a soft substance, that, small as it was, gave him the idea of a human body; and that shudder ran through his whole frame as a presentiment of evil.

"It is done," said the astrologer. "Go! and let the work of fate be accomplished."

The pale foreheads of both the young men, visible above their masks, showed that they felt they had been led further in the work of witchcraft than was their intention; but they did not expostulate. It was the Duke who now first rallied, and throwing down a heavy purse of coin on the table before the astrologer, he called to his companion to follow him.

Scarcely had the young men left the apartment, when the pannel by which Catherine of Medicis had disappeared, again opened, and she entered the room. Her face was pale, cold, and calm as usual.

"You heard them, Ruggieri!" she said, with her customary bland smile. "Alençon would be king, and that ambitious fool drives him to snatch his brother's crown. The Queen-mother is to be arrested, and imprisoned as a rebel to her usurping son. A notable scheme, forsooth! Her courier to recall Henry of Anjou from Poland has been intercepted also! But that mischance must be remedied immediately. Ay! and avenged. Biragne shall have instant orders. With this proof in my possession, the life of that La Mole is mine," continued she, tearing in twain the white linen cloth, and displaying beneath it a small wax figure, bearing the semblance of a king, with a crown upon its head, in which the gold pin was still left sticking, by the manner in which this operation was performed. "Little treasure of vengeance, thou art mine! Ruggieri, man, that plot was acted to the life. Verily, verily, you were right. Charles dies; and troubled and harassed will be the last hours of his reign."