and undisguised friend to his master and to France in their darkest days
and deepest affliction; that she had loved the king and kingdom for
themselves, not merely hanging on to their prosperity, but, on the
contrary, doing her best to produce that prosperity by her contributions
in soldiers, ships, and subsidies. "The king," said De Morlans, "is
deeply grieved that he can prove his gratitude only in words for so many
benefits conferred, which are absolutely without example, but he has
commissioned me to declare that if God should ever give him the occasion,
he will prove how highly he places your friendship."

The envoy assured the States that all fears entertained by those of the
reformed religion on account of the conversion of his Majesty were
groundless. Nothing was farther from the king's thoughts than to injure
those noble spirits with whom his soul had lived so long, and whom he so
much loved and honoured. No man knew better than the king did, the
character of those who professed the Religion, their virtue, valour,
resolution, and patience in adversity. Their numbers had increased in
war, their virtues had been purified by affliction, they had never
changed their position, whether battles had been won or lost. Should
ever an attempt be made to take up arms against them within his realms,
and should there be but five hundred of them against ten thousand, the
king, remembering their faithful and ancient services, would leave the
greater number in order to die at the head of his old friends. He was
determined that they should participate in all the honours of the
kingdom, and with regard to a peace with Spain, he would have as much
care for the interests of the United Provinces as for his own. But a
peace was impossible with that monarch, whose object was to maintain his
own realms in peace while he kept France in perpetual revolt against the
king whom God had given her. The King of Spain had trembled at Henry's
cradle, at his youth, at the bloom of his manhood, and knew that he had