maypole they have raised us this morning on the city boundary!’ they said; ‘they have put up a flag already; it only wants a few ribands and flowers to make the show complete!’ But the sight of these bloody fragments, swinging in the air, was no fit subject for jesting; there was great mourning in the city; groans and weeping were heard in the crowd; women gave vent to their horror, and men to their indignation. Navis’s father, a man detested by the Genevans, was not the last to be informed; some people ran to tell him of the tragic event that was stirring up the whole city. ‘Come,’ said they, ‘come and see the reward the bishop sends you for your faithful services. You are well paid; the tyrants recompense you right royally for the disfavour you have won from all of us; they have sent from Turin, as your pay, the head of your son.’ ... Peter Navis might be an unjust judge, but he was a father: at first he was overwhelmed. Andrew had been disobedient, but the ingratitude of the child had not been able to extinguish the love of the parent. The unhappy man, divided between affection for his son and respect for his prince, shed tears and endeavoured to hide them. Prostrated by grief and shame, pale and trembling, he bent his head in sullen silence. It was not the same with the mother, who gave way to the most violent affection and most extravagant despair. The grief of Navis’s parents, which was expressed in such different ways, struck all the spectators. Bonivard, who at this tragic moment mingled in the agitated groups of the citizens, was heart-stricken by all he saw and heard, and on returning to his priory exclaimed: ‘What horror and indignation such a spectacle excites! even strangers, whom it does not affect, are disgusted at it.... What will the poor citizens do now? the poor relations and friends? their father and mother?’ ...