On the evening of a Sunday, in the year 1578, a splendid fete was given in the magnificent hotel just built opposite the Louvre, on the other side of ... Show synopsis On the evening of a Sunday, in the year 1578, a splendid fete was given in the magnificent hotel just built opposite the Louvre, on the other side of the water, by the family of Montmorency, who, allied to the royalty of France, held themselves equal to princes. This fete was to celebrate the wedding of Francois d'Epinay de St. Luc, a great friend and favorite of the king, Henri III., with Jeanne de Crosse-Brissac, daughter of the marshal of that name. The banquet had taken place at the Louvre, and the king, who had been with much difficulty induced to consent to the marriage, had appeared at it with a severe and grave countenance. His costume was in harmony with his face; he wore that suit of deep chestnut, in which Clouet described him at the wedding of Joyeuse; and this kind of royal specter, solemn and majestic, had chilled all the spectators, but above all the young bride, at whom he cast many angry glances. The reason of all this was known to everyone, but was one of those court secrets of which no one likes to speak. . . .