Margaret did not at first accept the homage of the young King of Navarre. She was not to find in him all the support she needed; but that was not the only motive of her refusal; she could not think of marriage so long as her brother was a prisoner. Henry was not discouraged; he did all he could to please the duchess, and, knowing her attachment for the Gospel, he never failed, when present in the council, to take up the defence of the pious men whom Cardinal Duprat wished to put to death. This intervention was not a mere idle task. The persecution became such, that Margaret, withdrawing from the attentions of the prince, thought only of the dangers to which the humble christians were exposed whose faith she shared. We shall see that the pope and the Sorbonne had more influence in France than the regent and the king. CHAPTER IV. DEATH OF THE MARTYRS: RETURN OF THE KING. (1526.) At the very moment when the duchess, the Count of Hohenlohe, and others were indulging in the sweetest hopes, the darkest future opened before their eyes. Margaret had dreamt of a new day, illumined by the brightest sunshine, but all of a sudden the clouds gathered, the light was obscured, the winds rose, and the tempest burst forth. There was a young man, about twenty-eight years of age, a licentiate of laws, William Joubert by name, whom his father, king’s advocate at La Rochelle, had sent to Paris to study the practice of the courts. Notwithstanding the prohibition of the parliament, William, who was of a serious disposition, ventured to inquire into the catholic faith. Conceiving doubts about it, he said in the presence of some friends, that ‘neither Genevieve nor even Mary could save him, but the Son of God alone.’ Shortly after the issuing of the proclamation, the licentiate was thrown into prison. The alarmed father immediately hurried to Paris: his son, his hope ... a heretic! and on the point of being burnt! He gave himself no rest: he went from one judge to another: ‘Ask what you please,’ said the unhappy father; ‘I am ready to give any money to save his life.’[473] Vainly did he repeat his entreaties day after day; on Saturday, February 17, 1526, the executioner came to fetch William; he helped him to get into the tumbrel, and led him to the front of Notre Dame: ‘Beg Our Lady’s pardon,’ he said. He next took him to the front of St. Genevieve’s church: ‘Ask pardon of St. Genevieve.’ The Rocheller was firm in his faith, and would ask pardon of none but God. He was then taken to the Place Maubert, where the people, seeing his youth and handsome appearance, deeply commiserated his fate; but the tender souls received but rough treatment from the guards. ‘Do not pity him,’ they said; ‘he has spoken evil of Our Lady and the saints in paradise, and holds to the doctrine of Luther.’ The hangman then took up his instruments, approached William, made him open his mouth, and pierced his tongue. He then strangled him and afterwards burnt his body. The poor father