This was not enough. The priests excited the students; but while the former were playing a tragedy, the latter (or rather their teachers) resorted to satire. The scholars of the college of Navarre, who passed from the grammar to the logic class, were in the habit of giving a dramatic representation on the 1st of October. The clerical heads of the college, wishing to render the queen hateful to the people and ridiculous to the court, composed a drama. The parts were distributed among the pupils; the rehearsals began, and those who were admitted to them agreed that the author had so seasoned the plot with gall and vinegar, that success was certain.[415] The report spread through the Latin quarter: and even Calvin heard of it, for he kept himself well informed of all that took place in the schools. While applying himself constantly to the work of God, he kept watch also upon the work of the adversary. There was so much talk about this play, that, when the day of the representation arrived, there was a rush for admission, and the hall was crammed. The monks and theologians took their seats in front, and the curtain rose. A queen, magnificently dressed and sitting calmly on the stage, was spinning, and seemed to be thinking of nothing but her wheel. 'It is the king's sister,' said the spectators; 'and she would do well to keep to her distaff.' Next a strange character appeared: it was a woman dressed in white, carrying a torch and looking fiercely around her. Everybody recognised the fury Megæra. 'That is Master Gerard,' they said, 'the almoner of the king's sister.'[416] Megæra, advancing cautiously, drew near the queen with the intention of withdrawing her from her peaceful feminine occupation, and making her lay aside her distaff. She did not show her enmity openly, but came slily forward, putting on a smiling look, as if bringing additional light. She walked round and round the queen, and endeavoured to divert her attention by placing the torch boldly before her eyes.[417] At first the princess takes no heed, but continues spinning; at length, alas! she stops and permits herself to be attracted by the false light before her; she gives way, she quits her wheel.... Megæra has conquered, and in exchange for the distaff she places the Gospel in the queen's hand.[418] The effect is magical; in a moment the queen is transformed. She was meek, she becomes cruel; she forgets her former virtuous habits; she rises, and, glaring around with savage eyes, takes up a pen to write out her sanguinary orders, and personally inflicts cruel tortures on her wretched victims. Scenes still more outrageous than these follow. The sensation was universal! 'Such are the fruits of the Gospel!' said some of the spectators. 'It entices men away to novelties and folly; it robs the king of the devoted affection of his subjects, and devastates both Church and State.'[419] [Sidenote: SUCCESS OF THE COMEDY.]