treasurer would put on the airs of a martyr; his fidelity to the duke, he would say, had drawn upon him this savage assault. He would excite Charles III. against Geneva; he would urge him to take the city by storm; and in the midst of all these agitations his accounts would be forgotten--which was the essential thing for him. Boulet did not rejoice alone. His friends the mamelukes having met, agreed to work this assault in such a way as to make the blow which had severed Lévrier’s head be forgotten. ‘Good!’ said they; ‘we have now an opportunity of beginning the old dance again;[358] that is, to surrender Geneva to Savoy. Go to Chambéry,’ they continued; ‘make your complaint; say that you are not safe in this huguenot city, and entreat his Highness’s council to summon the syndic who offended you to appear before them--even at Chambéry.’ Boulet did all he could to exaggerate his injury. He bandaged his head, he carried his arm in a sling. In vain the surgeon assured him that his left arm was but slightly bruised, and that he had no other wound; no matter: ‘I will make my complaint to the bishop,’ he said; ‘I will make it to the duke!’[359] He would have gone even to the emperor. The wrath of Achilles, after he had been robbed of Briseis, hardly equalled the wrath of this wretch, and, in his opinion, Geneva deserved to receive a punishment as severe as that under which Troy fell. He had retired across the Arve, like Pelides to his tent. Some of his friends, his father-in-law and the judge of Gex in particular, called upon him and sought to pacify him; but he remembered the affront that had been done him, and was implacable. ‘Geneva shall pay dearly for it,’ he repeated to his friends.