seal of our sovereign lady! Have you such a knaves who have blown this coal of discord 'twixt they shall neither drive me to rebellion, nor a martoken?" us, be detected in their wicked practises. The riage which would banish me from England! No

"Send to the Chancellor."

"No!"

"The queen herself!"

times, too," she added, with a glance of dignity and
pride, "may change, when Sir Henry Beddingfield
shall find that Elizabeth forgets nor friends nor

"Liar!" interrupted the old man. Your war- foes! The latter, be it understood, to pray for and rant ?"

"Gardiner," faltered the terrified Basset, "assured me it was by the express command of her majesty."

His judge laughed scornfully. "Gardiner will not save thee!" he said. "Thou has tasted his liberality, I doubt not; the rest of the meed due for this noble action is from the justice of Sir Henry Beddingfield. Anthony Basset," he continued, "thou hast, without lawful authority, attempted to surprise the royal residence of Woodstock. By virtue of mine office, which empowers me in such cases provided, I condemn thee to the gibbet; that and the priest are ready."

forgive them!"

-no!" she added, musingly, "a simple ring of gold is not to be balanced against the crown of England!"

With this reflection, the future queen retired to her chamber to repose.

On the following morning, directly after the mass

Frank Jerningham, who was standing near, could not repress a smile at the last trait of the speaker's-which, at this period of her life, Elizabeth from character; who never, in the course of her long life policy regularly attended-Sir Henry Beddingfield and reign, appears to have bestowed, even on the conducted her grace to the old banquet-hall, at one most favored of her lovers, or devoted adherents, an extremity of which a gibbet had been erected. The entire and perfect confidence. host of the Fair Rosamond, closely pinioned, the pretty Mabel, his wife, and Reuben the tapster, were assembled there. From time to time the old man glanced uneasily at the preparations for execution. His whispered instructions to his dame were frequently broken by invectives directed against his nephew, whom he branded as a spy and unnatural boy.

"Madam," replied the knight, "in having had the happiness to serve you, I am well repaid; and doubly so, since that service accords with my duty to our sovereign lady the queen, who will learn with indignation, I feel well assured, this infamous attempt against your royal life.”.

"This comes of harboring poor relations," he said; "warm a serpent at your hearth, and it is sure to sting you!"

Elizabeth smiled incredulously; and yet she had The terrified wretch would have remonstrated, but no reason to doubt the intentions of her sister. the speaker turned coldly upon his heel, and, des- Many blame Mary for her harsh treatment of the pite his frantic entreaties for mercy, he was drag-daughter of Anne Boleyn-few give her credit ged with his companions from the banquet-hall, and for resisting the temptation which the impru- Several times the young man was about to answer hanged, with three of his principal accomplices, at dent conduct of Elizabeth, in tampering in more him; but the imploring looks of his cousin sealed a short distance from the palace. The rest were se- than one conspiracy, gave her. Disguise it as we his lips: the poor girl was half distracted between cured in the prisons of the palace. will, Mary's firmness in resisting the entreaties of terror for her father's safety and doubts of her lover's | her husband, whom she idolized, and the advice of conduct. Repeatedly the thought suggested itself her most intimate councillors, alone preserved the that he must have betrayed him. princess from the block.

Whilst the execution was taking place, Sir Henry kept pacing the floor of the apartment. He felt deeply the dishonor brought upon his faith by the infamous attempt of Gardiner. Although he could not reach the master-spirit of the enterprise, he felt a great satisfaction at having defeated his project, and executed justice upon his instruments. His reveries were broken by the entrance of an officer, who announced to him that all was over. "And the ruffians in the park?" he said. "Taken or slain, as you directed." Without a word, the stern Catholic soldier directed his steps towards the lodgings of the Princess Elizabeth.

"We have never doubted our sister's love, Sir Henry," observed his prisoner, in a tone of hypocrisy; "but our bitterest enemies are nearest in her councils; it is the curse of princes that they seldom hear the truth."

The knight remained silent, whilst Elizabeth continued to pour forth professions of loyalty, mingled with thanks to her kind gaoler, as she now playfully termed him.

"Your grace owes me but scant thanks," observed the blunt old man ; "for all our ward would have been useless, had it not been for an honest lad who overheard the devilish plot."

"A young man?" repeated her highness.

Ay, madam-the nephew of a rascally vintner, who keeps the hostel known by the sign of the Fair Rosamond,' hard by. I had hanged the mer

6 BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

run,

WHEN Sir Henry Beddingfield entered the
chamber of his prisoner, he found the Lady
Elizabeth calm and collected; the only sign of her
having been conscious of the danger she had
was in the occasional flashing of her dark, keen eye
--not a muscle of her countenance quivered.
No sooner did she behold the stern old knight,
than she gracefully advanced towards him; at the
same time extending her hand, which even to
an advanced period of her life, was admired for its
beauty.

The doors at the lower end of the hall opened, and the Lady Elizabeth, attended by Sir Henry, her gentleman usher, and ladies, entered the gloomy old apartment where the second Henry so frequently had held his revel with the beauteous daughter of Lord Clifford. The buff-coats stood to their arms, as the officer who commanded them pronounced, in a loud tone:

"Her grace the princess!"

Elizabeth advanced with a rapid step towards the spot where the group of prisoners was standing. Her keen, dark eye fell for an instant with no very encouraging look upon the countenance of the vintner, whose wife and daughter fell on their knees as she approached. From the old man it glanced upon Reuben: this time it wore a more favorable expression.

cenary rogue with the rest, had I not learned that knight.
his life might be the means of rewarding the lad
who, it seems, is a suitor for his pretty
daughter?"

The speaker explained to his illustrious prisoner
the oath which the innkeeper had taken; and how

he had reflected that the pardon of the father might
be made the price of his assent to the marriage of
the young people.

"With your permission, Master Beddingfield,"
said Elizabeth, "I will see these people in the morn-
ning. I owe the youth my thanks. Alack! in my
present state they are all I have to offer him!"

"Before we thank you, Sir Henry, for your true and loyal conduct, we must ask your pardon for the injustice we so lately did you, in our poor judg- The knight acceded to her request, and shortly ment. Alack, that evil times and evil men should afterwards, accompanied by his kinsman, Frank have led us to doubt the faith of such a gentle-Jerningham, withdrew to his own apartments in the man!" palace; leaving a strong guard at the lodge, for the The governor of Woodstock knelt and kissed the protection of his charge. taper fingers of the royal maiden.

"True," she continued, "we are a prisoner now; but our sister's mind may change, or the false

"God help me!" sighed the royal maiden, as soon as she was alone; " 'my poor wits are almost baffled in this contention with my enemies; but

"Are these the men!" she said, addressing the "The same," answered Sir Henry. "The young one merits your grace's favor--inasmuch as to his intelligence and loyalty we owe the discovery of the villain Basset's foul design against your royal person. The old man is under doom."

"We will not interfere with your justice, Sir Henry," replied the princess, sharply; to which, with all our heart, we do commend him. To you, young man," she added, in a more gracious tone, "we offer our thanks. For your fidelity and discretion, this purse is but a poor expression of our gratitude-but it is a pledge for favor."

As she spake these encouraging words, she extended towards the tapster a small velvet satchel or bag, embroidered by her own hands with her cypher and coronet. It held about fifty crowns in goldno inconsiderable sum in those days.

Instead of taking it, Reuben sank upon his knee, and implored her highness to interceed with the governor of Woodstock, for the life of the vintner.

Sir Henry and the princess exchanged a few knight. words in a low tone of voice.

"Were I to grant thy request, young man," answered the royal maiden, "peradventure I should do thee aught but kindness."

"I will hang first!" exclaimed Mile's Max, terly. "But for his folly, I should have made a bitterly. thousand crowns, at least, out of Basset's affair!" Like most military men, Sir Henry Beddingfield was one of those who permitted but brief space between

exclaimed his judge; "it is not thy trash I mean! tleman, should not leave thee thy choice! May Thy name?"

P. D. ORVIS, Publisher, 130 Fulton street, New York. Monthly Parts, 18% cts. each. Yearly Subscription to either edition $2, in advance. Ten Copies for FIFTEEN DOLLARS.

castle of Admiral

Coligny, everything was in active preparation, and through the large windows of the principal hall of the dwelling, figures might be seen moving hither and thither; for many of the principal and most influential of the Huguenots had assembled there, for the purpose of deciding the future proceedings of the army. Discussion was at its height when the

sound of horses' hoofs was heard, and a servant announced that Gui de St. Flore requested an audience with the admiral.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1854.

'To Monceaux! You?" he asked, with anxiety. "And the papers?"

"Hear me patiently, merciful lord," said Gui, "then judge-then condemn, and withdraw your confidence, if you will; but do hear me to the end."

[PRICE 4 CENTS

He anticipated a wild outbreak of rage on Coligny's part, or, at least, his immediate dismissal. Coligny all this time stood gazing on him with

folded arms.

"I am guilty," continued Gui; "condemn me to the severest punishment and I will submit, only do Coligny went up to Gui, and laying his hands not dismiss me from your service

Coligny smiled kindly.

"No, my son," thou art not alone to blame. It was too great a commission to intrust to 80 young a messenger. Thou hast

only acted, more

over, as any gal

ing down stairs,

he led the travel

ler, who was

and said

lant youth would

have done; and, after all the favor Montmorency evinced to thee is most honorable, and is to thy credit as well as his. Take my hand in token of reconciliation, and as a pledge that thou hast not forfeited my confidence."

The youth took the admiral's hand with reverence, and raised it to his lips, but his heart was too full to speak.

"Now go and take off your wet riding clothes," said Coligny, "and then come

and let me in

meeting with a cool reception on account of the past."

dreadfully fatigued and weather stained, into a pri- | firmly on his shoulders, he looked full in his face, troduce you to some of my guests. Do not fear vate apartment. In a moment Coligny saw that his suspicions were well founded. The form usually so dignified and erect was bent, and the face was pale and anxious.

"What has happened?" he asked sharply. "You are ill. Can you have seen Du Plessis already?" "I have been to Monceaux," answered Gui, with

a cold shudder.

"Young man, you have taken leave of your senses! Speak plainly, if you can; I am prepared for the worst."

Gui then related his adventure at Monceaux, and his visit to the castle-the effects of the sleeping draught-his rescue by Acevedo-and, finally the hands into which the papers had fallen.

So saying, with a friendly inclination of the head to Gui, the admiral left the room to rejoin his friends, and to relate to them the failure of the expedition, and the late scenes at Monceaux. Universal indignation against the treachery and ingratitude of the queen was expressed, but no anger against

"There is something wrong then," said Coligny, in a hurried tone, and hasten

Gui; every one was anxious to hear the recital from his own lips; and, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, and the inclemency of the weather, some young lords were dispatched with the important tidings to Condé, at Valery.

trembled, but no effort was made to overtake them
for some days. At length a truce was concluded,
called in history the "Little Truce,"* because of its
short duration of little more than half a year. But
the peace was not declared heartily, and scarcely
was the Huguenot army withdrawn than the most
vexatious and cruel proceedings were entered on
against the Protestants; so much so, that in the
course of half a year 2000 Protestants suffered the

The appearance of peace throughout the kingdom
was but deceitful, and everything was ripe for war.
Scarcely had the affair at Monceaux transpired than
all ranks of Protestants took up arms, and whole
bands of nobles and their retainers crowded the cas-loss of goods, and many of life.
tles of Chatillon and Valery, determined to make
another struggle for freedom. The royal party heard
of these energetic efforts with terror; and, hastily
leaving Monceaux, retreated to Meaux.

It was on the 18th March, 1568, that Admiral
Coligny and his family commenced the journey to
Noyers, to which place Condé had sent them a
friendly invitation.

Towards the end of September news was brought at midnight of the approach of Condé and his troops, Gui de Viole, who still retained his situation with which was soon verified by his actual appearance, Coligny, was not at this time in his company, but prepared to commence a vigorous attack on the being detained by a slight illness at Chatillon, he castle which was bravely defended by the Swiss was left there in full command of the castle. The troops. Condé's army was in three divisions, the occurrences at Monceaux, which were never alluded one commanded by himself, a second by his brother to, seemed now like a dream; his brief fascination Andelot, and a third by Rochefoucault; but although with Margaret of Valois had passed away, and even several skirmishes took place, they came to no open the thought appeared so faithless to Gabrielle, that engagement. The king was in great perplexity. it was never indulged. Her image, indeed, in all its He did not like to forego an opportunity of attack- loveliness and purity, was his constant companion, ing the heretics; but the counsel, both of the queen and he felt deeply humbled at the recollection af his and Montmorency, was that he should still be pas- temporary estrangement. But, alas! where was sive. As evening came on, the king was besieged she, the beloved? Did she yet live? Hitherto he with requests to hasten to Paris under cover of had made no effort to discover her retreat, but he night for safety; but to this Charles's royal pride would now lose no time in repairing to Paris, where he hoped to find Acevedo, and through him possibly to obtain some tidings of the maiden. His scheme was favored by the fact of the gipsy encampment being at this time in the vicinity. Adelma would, he knew, render him every possible assistance, and enable him to travel in secrecy to Paris, for concealment was extremely important, the admiral having told him that destruction and death awaited him there.

demurred.

"It is flight," he said,—“ shameful flight! it shall never, never be said that a King of France flees;" but at length the importunities of the court, and some secret fear as to the result of remaining longer at Meaux overcame his scruples, and they departed for Paris, which city they happily reached without any interruption on their route. The Huguenots appeared unexpectedly at the same place. Courageous and cool in their movements, they had betaken themselves to the capital, and Conde's purpose was fixed to endeavour, without bloodshed, to bring the king to favorable terms; but in vain, negotiations entirely failed, and a battle was fought at St. Denis towards the end of November. It was Montmorency's last engagement; the noble hero fell on the field, and closed his honorable career in the 80th year of his Catherine now breathed freely; the men whom she had dreaded were fallen, whilst Henry of Anjou, who saw his path to glory clear, was made commander-general of the forces, although only in his 16th year, and inexpressibly longed for an opportunity of extirpating the heretics.

age.

The battle of St. Denis did not destroy the Protestant's hopes. Andelot, who arrived with his division at this juncture, encouraged them to advance boldly to Paris, where after spending a few days in destroying houses and mills close to the walls, they set out to meet the troops which they expected from Germany, under the command of Prince Casimir, son of the Elector Palatine. Paris and the court

* The field and the spoil remained to the Catholics, but the honor of the day to the Huguenots. Montmorency's character is a compound of bigotry, bravery, and ambition. A Franciscan monk, who attended to confoss him, was thus repulsed-"Leave me father! Do you think I have lived with honor near eighty years, and have not learned to die for a quarter of an hour ?"-Brantome and Vielville.

"Silence! and direct me to her," said Gui. The gipsy now laid down the weapon, which he had all the time held in a menacing attitude, and said in a whisper

"Ride straight on and you will not fail to find her."

Gui needed no further parley, and turning his horse's head in the direction indicated by the man, rode briskly forward.

After a short ride, he came in view of the tents of the wandering people, and at the same moment his sharp eye discerned Adelma, who was seated on a cushion within a circle of women and girls

The appearance of the handsome horseman excited no small astonishment; but Adelma, at once recognising the youth, offered him her tawny hand in token of welcome.

"Hast thou lost thy way, my son ?" she asked. "If not, what may be thy errand?"

Welcome, thrice welcome, then, De Viole!" she said, a flush of pleasure mounting to her dark face; "and what wantest thou of me, my son?"

Gui gave a meaning look at the audience, which Adelma understanding, she dismissed them with a word, and Gui, dismounting from his horse, seated himself beside his old acquaintance.

"Thou hast spared me a weary journey, and I thank thee," she began; "for between to-day and full moon I must have sought thee at Chatillon." "Did you know I was there, Adelma?”

Margaret of Valois, the proud beauty; but now tell me how thou escaped from the danger at MonGui, however, would not conceal his intention ceaux. I knew the cause of thy errand to Picardy, from Coligny, but wrote a letter to him, character-—I guessed it, at least, and trembled for the conseized by the openness and confidence of a son in a quences. Thou wast fortunate in winning Margafather, in which he frankly acknowledged his tender ret's heart. I am told thou hast been quite fascisentiments to Gabrielle, entreating him not to attri-nated." bute his late illness to any deception, but rather to the fact that his position of personal responsibility and anxiety had been injurious to his health, and finally expressed the hope that he should be enabled to learn many of the proceedings of the court thro' the astrologer Acevedo.

A message was dispatched with the letter, and Gui, in anticipation of a favorable answer to his request, ordered his horse to be prepared, and about noon set out on his expedition. Swift as was the pace of his high-bred horse, the journey seemed endless to his impatient heart, until he arrived at the encampment of the gipsies.

He had not proceeded far into the forest, when
his path was intercepted by a strong, muscular
gipsy, who looked with no very amiablo expression
at the intruder.

"Where is Adelma?" Gui asked quickly.
"Do you know her?" was the suspicious reply.

*The treaty of Lonjumeau, published and signed in that town, 1568, called by the Protestants "La paix boiteuso et malassio," in allusion to Biron's lameness, and known also

as "La petite paix."

"Silence!" said Gui, in whose bosom shame and indignation were rising.

She looked steadily at him.

"Now tell me," she repeated, how hast thou escaped thence?"

"The same hand that saved me at Rouen," replied Gui, "saved me at Monceaux."

"The same!" said Adelma, and sank into deep thought, "the same! That man, then, has not disappointed my expectations. Come nearer, Gui. Yes, it must be so."

"He is a generous, noble man, whoever he may be," returned Gui. "But now to the point. Tell me, Adelma, how can I reach Paris safely?" "What wouldst thou do there?"

but to assist or protect thee when there is beyond and Condé were aroused. The need was pressing; great reluctance. She, however, appointed several her power."

"Leave that to me; I must go."

and as, reclining on a sofa, he awaited the entrance of the Admiral and the Prince, he mused on the "But what if a holier duty keeps thee at Noyers marvellous Providence which had permitted him to or Chatillon."

save Coligny from danger so imminent. Whilst "There can be no holier than that which impels devoutly thankful that he was the honored instrume to Paris."

The chace is ready. The stag caught. goes to Noyers to visit Condé to-day. Take them both prisoners."

Gui turned paie. It was Tavannes, indeed!--the hand-writing of Tavannes. The letter was addressed to one of his friends in Paris.

How came you by these lines?" asked Gui. "Wilt thou still go to Paris?" asked Adelma, smiling.

spies over the astrologer's conduct, who were di-
rected to watch his proceedings narrowly. Her
prejudice against the Chancellor l'Hôpital induced
her also to suspect his fidelity, and the whole court
was in a state of excitement and alarm. At a some-
what stormy council the Chancellor, who ventured
to speak in strong terms against the scandalous pro-
ceedings, and yet more cruel designs against the
Protestant party, was interrupted by Catherine with

ment of averting it, he trustfully confided his anxiety
in his Heavenly Father's hands, and the sweet
knowledge that he had sacrificed inclination to duty
gave him peace and joy.
Coligny entered with an exclamation of great sur- every expression of indignation.

prise

"Viole ! you are an enigma that I cannot unravel. Only to-day you wrote that you must go to Paris. Now I see you at Noyers."

"It is apparently unknown to you, my lord," she said, "that D'Acier, one of their great men, has been carrying on matters with a high hand in Languedoc and Dauphiny, murdering Catholics in cold blood, Forgive me, gracious lord; I then followed only slaughtering monks, destroying churches, and burnthe wayward desire of my heart, now ing down dwellings."*

Enough. I once was young, and once loved, therefore I cannot blame you."

"It is on your account, and that of the Prince, "No, not at present. I dare not; but answer, that I am here to save you, as I trust, from death. how came you by that letter!"

"One of our people, a wild fellow, was wandering about, and saw a horseman on his way to Paris, for whose gold he thirsted. He stopped him, threw him on the ground, and rifled him. He found that letter on his person, which he brought to me, as all the horde know the warm interest I take in the Protestant party. I plainly saw that thou wast the person in whom to confide, and was about to bring it to thee when thou cam'st."

"Many thanks! and now I must hasten hence. Alas! alas!" he said, mournfully. "Will my wish never be fulfilled? Why am I ever hindered in my efforts to seek her?"

Adelma looked at him with interest.

"Art thou sure to find hér at Paris, then?"

"Who?" said the youth, reddening at the

tion.

46

'Gabrielle d'Arbèque," was the reply.

Read this letter."

Condé looked bewildered.

"Why on earth come at this hour to disturb our
repose with such wild folly, Viole?" he said, testily.
"Faith, I would rather you were in your beloved's
arms than at Noyers," he said.

In the meantime Coligny had read and recognised
the writing, and handing it to Condé, he said—
"If we do not flee we are lost."

They both stood in silent horror.

"God grant your Majesty a truer servant," he said, and proudly left the royal presence, forthwith displaced from the office, into which Morvilliers, Bishop of Orleans, was installed by Catherine's desire.

In the meantime the spies brought word to the Queen that the astrologer frequently absented himself from the Louvre, and visited other parts of Paris; but no one had at present succeeded in tracking his footsteps.

"Where did you find the paper?" asked Condé. Gui then related the manner in which it had fallen into his possession, and every doubt vanished; but the danger was too near to allow of any waste of To prove him yet further, Catherine divulged some time in speculation, and they at once prepared for of her intentions towards the Huguenots, and trustflight. They resolved to take refuge at La Rochelle, ing too much to his power over the Queen, Acevedo ques-and to Gui was committed the whole management spoke somewhat warmly in their defence. Her susof the expedition. The scene that ensued in the picions were thus confirmed, and his doom was Castle baffled all description. Terror, confusion, sealed.

"Woman!" said Gui, "thou knowest the very and the wildest disorder prevailed. The servants thoughts of men's hearts."

"I know thine, and rejoice in the knowledge, Gui. I know that thou art true to thy young love. Only continue so, and Heaven will reunite you. will seek for Gabrielle; she is worthy thy love. But if Adelma seek in vain so wilt thou. God be with thee! Hasten away!

GER'S DISGRACE-DEFEAT AT JARNAC-THE
PLOT THICKENS.

ADELMA did not forget the promise which she

had made to Gui; but although she had lost no time in journeying to Paris, she only succeeded in obtaining a glimpse, and that a very transient one, of Acevedo. In him she at once recognised the man whom she had loved with her youth's devotion

ran one against another, and each seemed bereft of CHAPTER XV.-GABRIELLE'S RESCUE-THE ASTROLOself-control. Gui alone was calm and possessed, and soon restored order and equanimity to the terriIfied people. The carriages of the Prince and the Admiral were prepared, every attendant armed, and by morning the cavalcade was on its way to La Rochelle. Condé had taken the precaution previous to his departure to dispatch a messenger to the King with a letter which imported that they were still at Noyers, and entirely deceived both him and the Queen, who believed the prize secure. They arrived happily at their journey's end, however, and were shortly afterwards joined by Joanna, Queen of Navarre, and her young son, Henry of Bearn, who having been warned by an anonymous letter of the approaching peril, had fortunately time to escape.

Gui sprang into his saddle, and was soon on his way to Noyers, but the rapid journey had so exhausted his horse that when night came on he found it impossible to proceed. A solitary road-side inn offered him an asylum, and after tending the weary animal, and enjoying a short rest, he felt impatient to continue his journey. It was still four leagues from Noyers. The moon was rising, and he did not ride at so rapid a pace as in the carly part of his journey, wisely judging that he should, by that means, defeat his own purposes.

After some hours' travelling, to the great joy of the youth, he discovered the turrets of the Castle of Noyers. It was still night, and all its inhabitants were sleeping profoundly on his arrival; but Condé was not so careless and unprepared for danger as Coligny had been at Chatillon.

The watchmen were on the alert, and hailed Gui on his approach. He gave them the password, was at once admitted, and in a few moments Coligny

Catherine was desperate at the failure of all her plots, so secure had she felt of their success. That there was treachery somewhere she could not doubt, and at length her suspicions fell on Acevedo. On recalling much of his inexplicable conduct, she was strengthened in these suspicions, especially by his warning at Monceaux, and the wonderful escape of Gui from the Castle. Still how to doubt his veracity? So often had his predictions come true, and so implicit was her confidence in his hidden know ledge, that she admitted distrust of his honesty with

changed, indeed, but to her still the same-but so quickly had he disappeared, that she was unable to make herself known to him. For some time she had cherished a strong belief that Viole still lived, and that Acevedo and he were the same. His interest in Gui, his two successful efforts to save his life, confirmed her in the correctness of this opinion. Her visits to Paris were frequent, and every entrance to the Louvre was well known to her; but Acevedo's long habits of secrecy defied her strictest observations, and at present the search for Gabrielle had also been unavailing.

The oppression that the Huguenots had suffered may account for their excesses when in power. The popular cry, apart from all religious principle, was for retaliation. and it must be confessed by every candid Protestant, that

the horrors of the butchery at Vassy were at least equalled by those in Languedoc.