On the _second floor_ are the rooms of Henri III., including the King’s bedroom, where the Duke died; the oratory, where monks were praying for the success of the enterprise, not knowing what it was; and the Salle du Conseil, where Guise stood and warmed himself by the fire on the morning when he was assassinated--December 23, 1588. The Cabinet Vieux, where Henri waited during the murder, has been pulled down. Henri III., owing to his vacillating policy, found himself in 1588 completely dominated by his powerful subject, Henri, Duc de Guise, who had founded the league to re-establish the Catholic religion and to extirpate all heresy. The King had been forced to proclaim Guise Lieutenant-General of the kingdom, and to pledge himself to suppress heresy, but, though outwardly reconciled, Henri was determined on vengeance. Miss Edith Sichel gives the following account of the murder in her brilliant work on Catherine de Medici. ‘The Duc de Guise and the Cardinal had been asked to attend the Council early; but, although the rest had long been there, there was as yet no sign of the Duke. The winter’s day was dark and covered--it rained that Friday from morning till night--and no one dared wake him till nearly eight. He rose and attired himself carefully in a new grey satin suit, “too light for the season.”... Outside the rough cobbles of the courtyard were shining and wet; the stone passages through which he passed indoors were dank and struck ominously chill. That very morning he had received nine more letters bidding him beware. “This is the ninth to-day,” he had said aloud, as he put it in his pocket.... As he neared the short flight of steps leading down into the big hall, the Captain of the Guards approached him, and bowing low, but with studied insolence, “in a fashion very different from usual,” he held out the bill, as had been arranged. Guise courteously stopped to hear him, and, promising payment, moved on. The Captain and his train followed him, their hats in their hands, and made it easier to blind him to the fact that none of his own men were near him; they had been cut off at the entrance, as had been planned. But the door of the Council-hall once shut behind him, everything was changed. The Guards cleared the stairs of pages and valets, and made all safe. Crillon locked the outer doors of the Palace. As Guise seated himself and looked round, he read dismay on all the faces about him. The Council had got wind of what was on foot; there was doom in the air. For the first time Guise showed signs of perturbation; he changed colour; the eye next his scar began to water, as it did whenever he was stirred, and he bled at the nose. He sent for a handkerchief. “Monsieur,” he said to a gentleman near him, “will you go to the staircase door? See if one of my pages or anyone else