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Updated: May 28, 2025
The mother of the young prince, destined afterwards to be so famous, was one of the most celebrated women of history, Jeanne D'Albret, niece of Francis L; a woman who was equally extolled by men of letters and Calvinistic divines.
At last I thought of Madame Paon, and I wrote to her, inquiring whether she knew how Madame d'Albret was, detailing to her how I had come to England, and how Madame D'Albret had been seriously indisposed, stating my fears from not having received any reply to my last letters.
The Maréchal d'Albret was still worse off than Germanicus: the atmosphere that made him fall into a syncope exhaled from the head of a wild boar. A live, complete, whole wild boar produced no effect; but on perceiving the head of the animal detached from the body, the Maréchal was struck as if with lightning.
Monsieur de Chatenoeuf, I am at your orders." I never said a word during all this interview. Madame d'Albret tied the black veil round my head and let it fall to conceal my features, and I was led home by my father accompanied by the colonel. We went into the room where my mother was sitting. My father lifted the veil from my face.
Yet it was a pleasure to hear him talk of the time of Scarron and the Hotel d'Albret, and of the gallantries and adventures of his sister, which he contrasted with her present position and devotion.
Music and embroidery, at which I had before mentioned I was very expert, were my only occupations and on the latter my talents were exerted to please Madame d'Albret, by offering her each piece as they were successively taken from the frame. So far from wishing to return to Paris, I was unhappy at the idea of leaving the chateau.
The Duke of Brabant, the Count of Nevers, the Duke of Bar, the Duke of Alencon, and the Constable d'Albret were killed. The Duke of Orleans was dragged out wounded from under the dead. When Henry V., after having spent several hours on the field of battle, retired to his quarters, he was told that the Duke of Orleans would neither eat nor drink. He went to see him. "What fare, cousin?" said he.
The Queen of Navarre, Jeanne d'Albret, who had gone to Paris in preparation for the marriage, had died there on the 8th of June, 1572; a death which had given rise to very likely ill-founded accusations of poisoning.
I wrote to Madame d'Albret, thanking her for her presents, which, valuable as they were, I would not return after what she had said, and confided to Lionel a box of the flowers in wax that I was so successful in imitating, and which I requested her to put on her side table in remembrance of me.
She has, therefore, transmitted a billet of 500 francs to enable you to return to your father's house." "Then," replied I, "it is as I suspected; Monsieur de G is the cause of all." "Why did you trust him, Valerie, or rather why were you so imprudent, and I must add, ungrateful, to speak of Madame d'Albret as you did." "And you believe it, Madame Bathurst, you believe that I did so?
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