in the realm which he had just inherited. There was a Scotch party,
favourable on the whole to France; there was a Spanish party, there was
an English party, and, more busy than all, there was a party--not Scotch,
nor French, nor English, nor Spanish--that un-dying party in all
commonwealths or kingdoms which ever fights for itself and for the
spoils.

France and Spain had made peace with each other at Vervins five years
before, and had been at war ever since.

Nothing could be plainer nor more cynical than the language exchanged
between the French monarch and the representative of Spain. That Philip
III.--as the Spanish Government by a convenient fiction was always
called--was the head and front of the great Savoy-Biron conspiracy to
take Henry's life and dismember his kingdom, was hardly a stage secret.
Yet diplomatic relations were still preserved between the two countries,
and wonderful diplomatic interviews had certainly been taking place in
Paris.

Ambassador Tassis had walked with lofty port into Henry's cabinet,
disdaining to salute any of the princes of the blood or high
functionaries of state in the apartments through which he passed, and
with insolent defiance had called Henry to account for his dealing with
the Dutch rebels.

"Sire, the king my master finds it very strange," he said, "that you
still continue to assist his rebels in Holland, and that you shoot at his
troops on their way to the Netherlands. If you don't abstain from such
infractions of his rights he prefers open war to being cheated by such a
pretended peace. Hereupon I demand your reply."