After this victory my grandfather accompanied the King in his march upon Paris, to which city Henry laid siege, straitly shutting it up all that summer, so that they lacked food, and devoured horses and asses, dogs and rats, and even little balls of clay and powdered bones. But the Duke of Parma coming out of the Low Countries with an army of Spaniards, the King was enforced to strike his camp and haste to meet this doughty foe. Nevertheless there was no battle betwixt them, for Henry was in no wise strong enough to match the Duke, nor indeed was he equal to him in the art of war, though none could be bolder or more daring in the field. Being therefore outdone, he drew back his forces, and the city was opened to the Spaniards, who threw into it a plenty of victuals and lifted the people out of their misery. It were too long to tell of all the skirmishes, the marchings and countermarchings, the captures and surprises, wherein my grandfather bore his part for three years from that time. But in July 1593, the King professed himself of the Catholic faith, to the joy of the greater part of the nation, and the confusion of his enemies. City after city opened its gates to him; by the end of that year France had peace, and many of the English gentlemen that had fought for the King returned to their own country, my grandfather being among them. He told me that the main cause of his return was Queen Elizabeth’s displeasure with Henry for that he had changed his religion, but it is known that the Queen nevertheless withdrew not her support from him, and methinks my grandfather himself no longer held him in the same degree of respect, for he abhorred a turncoat, and I know that he grieved because, as all men knew, the King forsook his faith without sincerity and for the mere bauble of a crown. My father was used to remind him how Naaman the Syrian bowed himself in the house of Rimmon, and is held of many to be blameless; and how King Henry did in truth by his conversion compose the French nation to peace and order; whereat my grandfather would cry, "How now! would you do ill that good may come?" and so put him to silence.