A favourable wind seemed generally to be breathing over the Reformation: its enemies were still in prison and its friends at liberty; Francis appeared to be more than ever in harmony with his sister and with the protestants of Germany; and an evangelical orator was authorised to preach at Notre Dame: a violent hurricane, however, suddenly burst upon the metropolis. A pious and active christian was there to lose his life, and Paris was to witness at the same time—a triumph and a martyrdom. [Sidenote: ALEXANDER AT LYONS.] One day, a few weeks after Easter, a man loaded with chains entered the capital: he was escorted by archers, all of whom showed him much respect. They took him to the Conciergerie. It was Alexander Canus, known among the Dominicans by the name of Father Laurent de la Croix. At Lyons, as at Paris, Easter had been the time appointed by the evangelicals for boldly raising their banner. The goldsmiths, who were to Alexander what the Queen of Navarre was to Roussel, were no longer satisfied with preachings in secret. Every preparation was made for a great assembly; the locality was settled; pious christians went through the streets from house to house and gave notice of the time and place. Many were attracted by the desire of hearing a doctrine that was so much talked about, and on Easter-day the ex-dominican preached before a large audience.[575] Was it in a church, in some hall, or in the open air? The chronicler does not say. Alexander moved his hearers deeply, and it might have been said that Christ rose again that Easter morn in Lyons, where he had so long lain in the sepulchre. All were not, however, equally friendly; some cast sinister glances. Alexander was no longer invisible: the spies in the assembly saw him, heard him, studied his physiognomy, took note of his _blasphemies_, and hurried off to report them to their superiors.[576]