On his taking possession of the throne, Henry set at liberty the king of Navarre and the duke of Alençon. The marshals, however, were still retained in confinement. Diana, the wife of Montmorenci, had adopted a singular mode of moving in her husband’s behalf the feelings of the monarch. Dressed in deep mourning, and followed by all her female attendants in the same garb, she met Henry as he was passing through the street, fell at his feet, and entreated him to take compassion on her husband, whose health was declining in a prison, into which he had been thrown without being convicted, or so much as accused, of any crime. She likewise forcibly urged that, even if his majesty supposed him to be guilty, he ought to grant him a fair trial. The king seemed to be affected by her appeal, which was backed by some of the nobles who were present, and he promised to enquire into the business with as little delay as possible. The promise of the king, however, if sincere at the moment, was soon disregarded. Cossé, who, like his fellow captive, was suffering from bad health, was, indeed, allowed to take up his abode in his own house, under a guard; but the only deliverance which was destined for Montmorenci was deliverance from all the troubles of this world. It appears, in fact, that his life would not have been safe for a moment, but for the salutary fear that his death would drive into open hostility his brother Damville, who held the government of Languedoc. A report having been spread that Damville was dead, the king resolved to have the marshal strangled in prison, and, as a preliminary step, it was industriously given out that he was subject to apoplectic attacks. This barbarous and cowardly scheme would have been carried into effect, had not an obstacle occurred. Giles de Souvré, who had been mistakenly selected to perform the assassin’s part, chanced to be a more honest man than his royal master, and he purposely interposed so many delays, that time was afforded to ascertain the falsehood of the report which had announced the death of Damville. It was neither to the clemency nor the justice of his sovereign that Montmorenci was ultimately indebted for the recovery of his freedom. Endangered by the betrayal of a plot into which he had entered against his brother, Alençon mustered up courage enough to run away. His flight took place on the 16th of September 1575. As soon as he was in safety, at Dreux, he issued a manifesto, not unartfully contrived, to gain partisans in various quarters. Reform in every department was the tempting burden of its song. It worked its intended effect; the protestants were in raptures, the Third Party was satisfied with it, and he speedily found himself in a situation to set the court at defiance.