It was the summer of 1572. The
great peace, it will be remembered, between the Catholics and the
Huguenots had not long been declared; the peace which in a day or
two was to be solemnized, and, as most Frenchmen hoped, to be
cemented by the marriage of Henry of Navarre with Margaret of
Valois, the King's sister. The Vicomte de Caylus, Catherine's
father and our guardian, was one of the governors appointed to
see the peace enforced; the respect in which he was held by both
parties--he was a Catholic, but no bigot, God rest his soul!--
recommending him for this employment. He had therefore gone a
week or two before to Bayonne, his province. Most of our
neighbours in Quercy were likewise from home, having gone to
Paris to be witnesses on one side or the other of the royal
wedding. And consequently we young people, not greatly checked
by the presence of good-natured, sleepy Madame Claude,
Catherine's duenna, were disposed to make the most of our
liberty; and to celebrate the peace in our own fashion.
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