As they enter the gates of Saint-Cloud, a man rushes by them, shouting, “The King is dead--the King is dead!” Henry reins up his horse. The Swiss Guard, posted round the château, perceive him. They throw down their arms and cast themselves at his feet. “Sire,” they cry, “now you are our King and master, do not forsake us.” Biron, the Duc de Bellegarde, the Comte d’O, M. de Châteauvieux, and De Dampierre come up; they all warmly salute Henry as their sovereign. But the bonfires that already blaze in the streets of Paris at the news of the death of the King, warn Henry of Navarre that he must fight as many battles to gain the Crown, as he has already done to secure his personal liberty. CHAPTER XXIII. DON JUAN. The wars of the League rage fiercer than ever. By the death of the last Valois, Henry III., Henry IV., a Bourbon, is King of France.[19] But he is only acknowledged by his Protestant subjects. To the Catholics he is but a rebel, and still only King of Navarre. The Duc de Mayenne (a Guise, brother of the Balafré), subsidised with money and troops by Spain, is the orthodox pretender to the [Illustration: HENRY IV. FROM A CONTEMPORARY PAINTING IN THE MUSEUM AT VERSAILLES.] throne. The capital, Paris, is with him. The two Henries, reconciled after the death of Catherine de’ Medici, encamped with their respective forces at Saint-Cloud, were about to invest the city. But now Henry III. is dead. His successor, Henry of Navarre, weakened in influence, troops, and money, is forced to raise the siege and retire. Henry IV. had at this time but 3,000 troops, while the army of Mayenne numbered 32,000 men. Then came help from England. The victory of Ivry was gained, Henry again invested Paris and encamped on the heights of Montmartre. It was now he uttered that characteristic _mot_:--“I am like the true mother in the judgment of Solomon,--I would rather not have Paris at all than see it torn to pieces.” At this time the fortune of war called the King in many places. He loved an adventurous life. Brave to a fault, he rode hither and thither like a knight-errant, regardless of his personal safety, accompanied only by a few attendants.