But those who counted on the early surrender of La Rochelle understood but little the grim tenacity of that people, so well personified by the inflexible seaman whom it had chosen as its chief. The mayor Guiton, ably seconded by the old Duchesse de Rohan and the eloquent minister Salbert, exhorted their fellow-citizens to endure all things for the sake of their faith and to choose death rather than dishonour. Nevertheless, so great was the despondency which followed the departure of the English that these zealots were unable to prevent negotiations being opened with the Royal army, though it is probable that they had no intention of allowing them to be carried through. Anyway, on May 31, a drummer from the town came to Bassompierre’s quarters; informed him that the citizens were debating the question of surrender, and requested that he would send someone to arrange for a conference. Bassompierre despatched the Comte, afterwards the Maréchal, de Grancey to La Rochelle, and sent to inform the King and the Cardinal, who expressed their approval; and on the following day commissioners were appointed on both sides. On the morrow, however, the negotiations were abruptly broken off by the Rochellois: “_Friday, the 2nd_ [June].--The Rochellois received a letter from the King of England by which he promised them to hazard his three kingdoms for their salvation, and that in a few days he would send such a fleet as would render them effectual aid. This encouraged the zealots to make the people resolve to suffer the last extremities rather than surrender. They instructed Grancey to inform me of this and sent me a copy of the letter.” Alas for the unhappy Rochellois! Distracted by troubles at home and at his wits’ end for money, many weeks were to pass before Charles was to be in a position to redeem his promise, and long before that time the last extremities had come upon the people whom he and his favourite had so wantonly incited to revolt. During the ensuing weeks an occasional attempt was made to revictual La Rochelle on the land side, but without success, and by the end of June the town was in the grip of famine. Half the population was already subsisting on vegetables, roots, and shell-fish, but soon these resources failed, and they were obliged to have recourse to all the deplorable expedients which hunger can impose on the revolted senses. Soon there was not a cat or dog in the town, and when these had disappeared, parchments, skins and leather were cut into shreds, soaked in water, boiled, and eaten, with a little syrup to season the dish. Some endeavoured to support life on bran and chopped straw; others declared war on rats and mice.