On 31 May of that year, the unhappy Charles IX. expired, “rejoicing that he left no heir in such an age, since he knew of his own sad experience how wretched was the state of a child-king, and how wretched the kingdom over which a child ruled.” On the previous day, he had publicly declared the King of Poland his lawful heir and successor, and his mother Regent until his return to France; and Catherine wrote, urging her favourite son to return without delay and take possession of his birthright. The latter needed no pressing. Although he had only occupied the throne of Poland a few months, he was already heartily tired of his kingdom, both the people and the customs of which were utterly distasteful to one of his indolent and luxurious temperament; and he was impatiently awaiting the event which should recall him to France--and the Princesse de Condé. Absence, so far from diminishing, had only served to increase his devotion to that lady. “I love her so greatly, as you know,” he wrote to one of his confidants at the Court, “that you must certainly inform me of everything that befalls her, for the sake of the tears that I shed for her. But I will speak no more of her, for love is intoxicated.” And he employed a good part of his time in inditing to her passionate letters, written in his own royal blood! So soon as the news of his brother’s death reached him, he quitted his sombre palace at Cracow, secretly, in the middle of the night, accompanied by some of his French attendants, and rode without drawing rein until he reached the Moravian frontier, hotly pursued by his indignant subjects, who, singularly enough, had conceived for him a great affection, and wished to compel him to remain their ruler. The explanation he subsequently condescended to give of this escapade, was that the condition of France was so disturbed that even a week’s delay might imperil his succession. Nevertheless, having once shaken the dust of his adopted country off his feet, he seemed in no hurry to return to his own; he preferred to travel by way of Vienna and Turin, where he extravagantly rewarded the hospitality of the Duke of Savoy by the restoration of Pinerolo, the gate of Italy; and it was not until the beginning of September that he turned his steps towards France. At Bourgoin, he was met by Catherine and the greater part of the Court. The Queen-Mother brought with her the King of Navarre and Alençon, whom she had set at liberty, having first extracted an oath from them that they would “neither attempt nor originate anything to the detriment of his Majesty the King and the state of his realm.” They were still, however, kept under very close observation by her Majesty, and treated very much like naughty schoolboys.