nothing he was constrained to go back to his uncle's in order not
to raise suspicions by too long an absence.

The Duc's squire had been correct when he said that the Princess
was seriously ill, for as soon as her women had put her to bed
she was seized by a violent fever with horrible phantasies, so
that by the second day her life was despaired of. The Prince
pretended that he himself was ill so that no one should be
surprised that he did not visit his wife's room. The order which
he received to return to the Court, to which all the Catholic
princes were being recalled in preparation for the massacre of
the Huguenots, relieved him of his embarrassment. He went off to
Paris without knowing what he had to hope or fear about his
wife's illness. He had hardly arrived there when the assault on
the Huguenots was signalised by the attack on Admiral de
Chatillon. Two days later came the disgraceful massacre, now so
well known throughout Europe.

The poor Comte de Chabanne, who had gone to hide himself away in
one of the outer suburbs of Paris to abandon himself to his
misery, was caught up in the ruin of the Huguenots. The people to
whose house he had retired, having recognised him, and having
recalled that he had once been suspected of being of that
persuasion, murdered him on the same night which was fatal to so
many people. The next day the Prince de Montpensier, who was in
that area on duty, passed along the street where the body of the
Comte lay. He was at first shocked by this pitiful sight and,
recalling his past friendship, was grieved; but then the memory
of the offence, which he believed the Comte had committed, made
him feel pleased that he had been avenged by the hand of chance.