" shouted he, "bring this misery to an end, and
suffer the wretched men to remain no longer amongst you. Hunt the wolves
from the land, to the glory of God and the rage of the devil. Then will
peace and blessing return, and great joy in heaven with God, and on
earth with those who heartily serve Him and His saints. Amen." Hardly
had he uttered the last word than he disappeared through a side door
and was no more seen. As for us, we passed quietly through the staring
and threatening mob. No hand was raised against us at that moment, but
danger lay about us on every side, and it was no pleasure to recognise
the fact that the sword of Damokles always hung by a hair over our
head. Feeling very uneasy at our insecure condition, I was sent, on the
part of the rest, to the authorities of the canton, especially to Abbe
Girard,[137] and the mayor, Eduard Pfyffer, to beg that they would
provide for our safety with all the means in their power. On my way I
was recognised by a priest for one of the newly-introduced "heretics" as
I rested a moment in an inn. The people there began to talk freely about
me, and to cast looks of hatred and contempt at me. At last, the priest
waxing bolder and bolder, accused me aloud of abominable heresy.
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