It was, however, no easy thing to do. He would have to get out of Geneva, pass through the district of Gex, and cross the Jura mountains, all filled with armed men. Feeling the want of some one to help him, he determined to apply to Besançon Hugues. He invited him to come to the palace, but in the night, so that no one might see him. When Hugues got there, the wretched and guilty prelate squeezed his hand, and told him all his troubles. 'I can no longer endure the wrong, violence, and tyranny which the duke does me,' he said. 'I know that he is plotting to kidnap me and shut me up in one of his monasteries. On the other hand, I mistrust my own subjects, for they are aiming at my life. I am day and night in mortal torment. You alone can get me out of the city, and I hope you will manage so that it shall not be talked of.' Besançon Hugues was touched when he saw the man whom he recognised as his lord agitated and trembling before him. How could he refuse the alarmed priest the favour he so earnestly demanded?... He left the bishop, telling him that he would go and make preparations for a nocturnal flight.[750] [Sidenote: FLEES BY NIGHT TO ST. CLAUDE.] In the night of the 1st and 2nd of August, 1527, Hugues went secretly to the palace, accompanied by Michael Guillet, a leading mameluke. The prelate received his friends like liberating angels. They all three went down into the vaults, where La Baume ordered a private door to be opened which led into the street now called the Rue de la Fontaine. He had to go along this street to reach the lake; but might not some of those terrible huguenots stop him in his flight? He crept stealthily and in disguise out of the palace, put himself between his two defenders, and, a prey to singular alarm, went forward noiselessly. On arriving at the brink of the water, the fugitive and his two companions descried through the darkness the boatmen whom Hugues had engaged. La Baume and Besançon entered the boat, while Michael Guillet returned to the city. The boatmen took their oars, and crossed the lake at the point where the Rhone flows out of it. La Baume looked all round him; but he could see nothing, could hear nothing but the dull sound of the oars. The danger, however, was far from being passed. The right bank might be occupied by a band of his enemies.... When the boat touched the shore, La Baume caught sight of two or three men with horses. They were friends. Hugues and the bishop got into their saddles without a moment's loss, and galloped off in the direction of the Jura. The bishop had never better appreciated his good luck in being one of the best horsemen of his day; he drove the spurs into his steed, fancying at times that he heard the noise of Savoyard horses behind him. In this way the bishop and his companion rode on, all the night through, along by-roads and in the midst of great dangers, for all the passes were guarded by men-at-arms. At last the day appeared.