The ‘honour’ which the duchess was about to confer on Geneva did not affect the Genevans. The most courageous citizens, Aimé Lévrier, John Lullin, and others, were superior to all such seductions. Faithful interpreter of the law, calm but intrepid guardian of the customs and constitutions, Lévrier continually reminded the council that Charles was not sovereign in Geneva. While avoiding a noisy opposition, he displayed unshrinking firmness; and accordingly the duke began to think that he could only become prince of the city by passing over his body. Lullin was not a jurist like Lévrier, but active, practical, and energetic; at every opportunity he manifested his love of liberty, and sometimes did so with rudeness. Although prior of the confraternity of St. Loup, he was at the same time landlord of the _Bear_ inn, which, according to the manners of those days, was not incompatible with a high position in the city. One day when his stables were full of horses belonging to a poor Swiss carrier, some richly-dressed gentlemen of Savoy alighted noisily before the inn and prepared to put up their horses. ‘There is no room, gentlemen!’ said Lullin roughly. ‘They are the duke’s horses,’ replied the courtiers. ‘No matter,’ returned the energetic huguenot. ‘First come, first served. I would rather lodge carriers than princes.’ At that time Charles was raising six thousand men, to be present in Geneva at his child’s christening, and the cavaliers probably belonged to this body. But the huguenots thought it too much to have six thousand godfathers armed from head to foot, and it was probably this that put Lullin in bad humour. Charles was weak but violent; he stamped his foot when told of the insult offered to his servants, cast a furious glance over the city, and exclaimed with an oath: ‘I will make this city of Geneva smaller than the smallest village in Savoy.’[319] Many trembled when they heard of the threat, and the council, to pacify the prince, sent Lullin to prison for three days.