De Sergine, unwilling to lose a moment, sat down without ceremony on the steps of the hôtel-de-ville, as might have been done, perhaps, in the simple republics of antiquity, and prepared to draw up the letters-testimonial that were required of him. A certain number of patriots stood around him; others went through the city reporting what had just taken place. Men rejoiced everywhere; they directed their steps towards the hôtel-de-ville, remembering that God never forsakes a people that does not forsake itself. Every minute fresh citizens came and increased the strange assembly gathered round the notary, and every new-comer was eager to have his name at the foot of the declaration. All were speaking and arguing at once; some wept, others laughed; they felt that a new breath was passing over the city, and that its ancient liberties were recovering their vitality. All voices united in proclaiming the praises of the fugitives. ‘Yes, certainly they are better than us,’ said the crowd, ‘for they have forsaken everything that our liberties might be preserved.’ For a long time no such enthusiasm and joy had been witnessed in Geneva; and comparisons were drawn between this noble assembly, where every one gave his name at the peril of his life, and that gloomy Council of the Halberds, held in the duke’s presence: on one side pomp and tyranny; on the other, simplicity and liberty. Forsaken by the bishop, threatened by the duke, watched by the Count of Genevois, surrounded by the armed soldiers of Saleneuve and Balleyson, ever prompt to acts of violence, the citizens followed each other, from noon until five o’clock, to sign the document which was to secure their alliance with Switzerland and the triumph of their liberties.