Berthelier was present. He was still governor of Peney, the bishop’s gift; and the latter made merry with his courtiers at having put ‘a bone in his mouth to prevent his barking.’ There were some Genevans who looked frowningly upon him, as if that great citizen had betrayed his country. But Berthelier was calm, his countenance determined: he was prepared to strike the first blow. The syndics described the illegal act of the bishop; the sons of the prisoner called upon them to avenge their father; and Berthelier exclaimed: ‘To maintain the liberties of the city, we must act without fear; let us rescue the citizen whom traitors have seized.’ John Taccon, captain-general, and at the same time a pensioner of the bishop’s, stopped him: ‘Gently,’ said he, ‘if we do as you advise, certain inconveniences may follow.’ Berthelier in great excitement exclaimed: ‘Now the pensioners are showing themselves!’ At these words Taccon could not contain himself: ‘It was you,’ he said, ‘yes, you, who showed me the way to take a pension.’ On hearing this reproach Berthelier pulled out the bishop’s letters appointing him governor of Peney, and which he had brought with him to the council, and tore them in pieces before the meeting, saying: ‘Since I showed you the way to take them, look, I now show you the way to resign them.’ These words acted like an electric shock. A cry of ‘No more pensions!’ was raised on all sides. All the pensioners declared themselves ready to tear up their letters-patent like Berthelier. The commotion was very great. ‘Toll the bell for the general council,’ cried some. ‘No, no,’ said the more prudent, ‘it would be the signal for a general outbreak, and the people would right themselves.’[87] Something however must be done. A portion of the assembly went off to the bishop’s palace, and began to shout for the prelate: ‘Release the prisoner!’ But the bishop did not appear; the doors and windows of the palace remained closely barred. The irritation grew general. ‘As the bishop will not show himself,’ they said, ‘we must assemble the people.’ Upon this John Bernard, whose three sons played an important part in the Reformation, ran off to the tower of St. Pierre to ring the bell for the general council. But the priests, anticipating what would happen, had fastened the belfry door. Bernard did not renounce his purpose: he caught up a huge hammer and was beginning to batter the door, when some citizens came up and stopped him. They had just learned that the bastard did not appear because, dreading the fury of the people, he had left Geneva in great haste. One thought consoled the bishop in all his terror: ‘Surely here is an argument that will convince the sacred college: my people are in revolt!’ But the episcopal council thought differently: Vandel’s arrest was illegal, and they restored him to liberty. From that hour the bishop’s hatred grew more deadly against those who would not bend to his tyranny.[88]