At this beautiful prayer the priests and bishops jeered. He was ordered now to mount the scaffold, to put on the priestly garments, and to recant his heretical opinions. The first two commands he obeyed; the third he treated with scorn. As he drew the alb over his shoulders, he appealed once more to Christ. "My Lord Jesus Christ," he said, "was mocked in a white robe, when led from Herod to Pilate." There on the scaffold he stood, with his long white robe upon him and the Communion Cup in his hand; and there, in immortal burning words, he refused to recant a single word that he had written. "Behold," he cried, "these Bishops demand that I recant and abjure. I dare not do it. If I did, I should be false to God, and sin against my conscience and Divine truth." The Bishops were furious. They swarmed around him. They snatched the Cup from his hand. "Thou cursed Judas!" they roared. "Thou hast forsaken the council of peace. Thou hast become one of the Jews. We take from thee this Cup of Salvation." "But I trust," replied Hus, "in God Almighty, and shall drink this Cup this day in His Kingdom." The ceremony of degradation now took place. As soon as his robes had been taken from him, the Bishops began a hot discussion about the proper way of cutting his hair. Some clamoured for a razor, others were all for scissors. "See," said Hus to the King, "these Bishops cannot agree in their blasphemy." At last the scissors won the victory. His tonsure was cut in four directions, and a fool's cap, a yard high, with a picture of devils tearing his soul, was placed upon that hero's head. "So," said the Bishops, "we deliver your soul to the devil." "Most joyfully," said Hus, "will I wear this crown of shame for thy sake, O Jesus! who for me didst wear a crown of thorns." "Go, take him," said the King. And Hus was led to his death. As he passed along he saw the bonfire in which his books were being burned. He smiled. Along the streets of the city he strode, with fetters clanking on his feet, a thousand soldiers for his escort, and crowds of admirers surging on every hand. Full soon the fatal spot was reached. It was a quiet meadow among the gardens, outside the city gates. At the stake he knelt once more in prayer, and the fool's cap fell from his head. Again he smiled. It ought to be burned along with him, said a watcher, that he and the devils might be together. He was bound to the stake with seven moist thongs and an old rusty chain, and faggots of wood and straw were piled round him to the chin. For the last time the Marshal approached to give him a fair chance of abjuring. "What errors," he retorted, "shall I renounce? I know myself guilty of none. I call God to witness that all that I have written and preached has been with the view of rescuing souls from sin and perdition, and therefore most joyfully will I confirm with my blood the truth I have written and preached."