The King, who was absolutely at his mercy, and whom he could cast down from his throne at a single word, was no obstacle in his way; the Epernons, the d'Aumonts, the Villequiers, he looked upon, notwithstanding all their favour, and the semblance of power which had been cast into their hands, as a mere herd of deer, to be driven backwards and forwards, like beasts of the chase, between himself and Henry of Navarre. And then again, when he looked to the great and chivalrous Huguenot monarch, what were the feelings with which he regarded the struggle that might take place between them? His breast heaved, his chest expanded, his head was raised, his eye flashed with the thought of encountering an adversary worthy of the strife, a rival of powers equal or nearly equal to his own. When he thought of army to army, and lance to lance, against Henry of Navarre, with the crown of France between them as the golden prize of their mighty strife, his spirit seemed on fire within him, and he had well nigh forgotten all his resolutions, in order to do the daring act which might bring about that glorious result; and then, when fancy pictured him returning triumphant over his rival, with peace restored, and civil war put down, and commerce flourishing, and the rights of France maintained on every frontier, an uniform religion, a happy people, and the strong truncheon of command in a hand that could wield it lightly, the prospect was too bright, too beautiful, too tempting; and he pressed his hand tight upon his eyes, as if he could so shut it out from his mental vision. What was it that deterred him? There was much reason on his side; there was little if any risk; there was the object of the church's safety; there was the gratification of vengeance upon those who had insulted and injured him; there were the exhortations of the King of Spain; there was almost the universal voice of the people in the north of France; there was his own ambition; there was the certainty that all he did would be absolved, sanctioned, confirmed by the head of the Catholic Church; there was already in his favour the solemn and decided declaration of the highest theological authority in France; and there was many a specious argument, which no one could expect that he should sift and refute against himself. What was it deterred him? Was it that there is a majesty which hedges in a King, sufficiently strong to overawe even the Duke of Guise himself? Was it that the habitual reverence, which he had been accustomed to show towards the kingly office, veiled or shielded from his eyes the real weakness of him who exercised it? Was it that he feared himself?--Or was it that he felt the act of usurpation must be confirmed by murder?