vered in his court a stranger who had conspired to murder him, Francis gave a great hunt, and, leading the traitor aside to a lonely glade, he offered to cross swords with him in fair fight, and then sent him pardoned away. Such stories as these captivated the popular imagination; and the splendid court of Francis, his love of art, his taste in architecture, his considerable skill in poetry, all this completed the national enchantment; for France, notwithstanding her love of thrift, has ever demanded glory or magnificence from her rulers. Also the person of the King was widely known. His habit of traversing the country through and through, hunting, pleasuring, inspecting frontiers, made all men acquainted with their monarch. And the nation, delighted with his showy chivalry, found their Prince a picturesque object for devotion.
But woe to those who expected more solid qualities from Francis. Fickle and variable as he was versatile, he veered from point to point with every wind. At bottom a profoundly indifferent nature, he cared only for the convenience of the moment. He accepted devotion gracefully, but it did not occur to him to repay it. His confidence was the one reward he bestowed on those who gave their lives to him; and this went far with the women who adored him. It gave them an exquisite sense of participation in his interest. He kept his grateful sister all her life travelling from province to province en commis-voyageur de royauté. He left half the cares of his country to his mother. But woe to any who, in her hour of need, expected to receive a like aid or service from the King. The Queen of Navarre never got her kingdom from him. Madame de Chateaubriand, in
