But a terrible example was made. After Castelnaudary the wounded governor had been taken to the castle of Lectoure, and at the end of October, nearly two months later, he was brought to Toulouse to be tried for his life. The King and the Cardinal were already there, and all the prayers of province and kingdom, of high and low, had for six weeks been prayed in vain. The fact that M. de Montmorency was one of the very greatest men in France, that his pardon was humbly begged for not only by his miserable wife, but by the Princesse de Condé, the Duc d’Épernon and his sons, the Ducs d’Angoulême, de Châtillon, de Chevreuse, and many others, only made his condemnation more sure. Richelieu was bent on teaching France, once for all, the lesson she had been slow in learning, that no head was high enough to escape the vengeance of the King. He listened, not untouched certainly, but unmoved, even to the crying in the streets--“Grâce, grâce! Miséricorde!”--with which, night and day, the people of Toulouse tried to soften the hearts of King and Minister. And if we are to believe the biographer of Père Joseph, any leanings towards mercy in either were checked by the fiery zeal of the “Eminence grise,” who pressed upon them both, in secret council of three, that “to pardon this criminal would encourage all the rebels in the kingdom, who would not fail to invite Monsieur to place himself once more at their head, since they would be sure of impunity ... whereas, a chief of this rank and quality being put to death, no one would henceforth dare to declare himself for the King’s brother.” The trial, presided over by Richelieu’s Chancellor, Châteauneuf, was short and decisive: there was no doubt of the result; but we are told that the judges wept when they pronounced the sentence, and the courtiers wept when they heard it. Henry de Montmorency died that same day, October 30, 1632, on the scaffold at Toulouse, patiently and bravely, as became the “premier Chrestien.” In his will, made the day before, he left a valuable picture, a St. Sebastian, to Cardinal de Richelieu. The mourning throughout France was such as had not been seen since the death of King Henry IV. Terrified by so sharp an object-lesson, Gaston d’Orléans made one more dash across France and again took refuge at Brussels. This was a consequence not at all intended by Cardinal de Richelieu. Worry and strain, political anxieties constantly fresh, the knowledge that he was furiously hated by society, that dozens of desperate men had vowed to kill him, and were watching for their opportunity--a strong man would have felt the burden, and Richelieu, whatever the power of his spirit, was always delicate and frail of body. One of the worst illnesses of his life came upon him immediately after the death of the Duc de Montmorency.