The servant, who did not possess the courage of a hero, departed trembling. His emotion increased as he proceeded, his strength failed him, and as he was crossing the Pont au Change, and found himself in front of the image of Our Lady, known as _la belle ymage_, the poor fellow, who was rather superstitious, although in Berquin's service, lost his presence of mind and fainted. 'A sinking of the heart came over him, and he fell to the ground as if in a swoon,' says the catholic chronicler.[103] The neighbours and the passers-by gathered round him, and lifted him up. One of these kind citizens, eager to assist him, unbuttoned his coat to give him room to breathe, and found the letter which had been so carefully hidden. The man opened and read it; he was frightened, and told the surrounding crowd what were its contents. The people declared it to be a miracle: 'He is a heretic,' they said. 'If he has fallen like a dead man, it is the penalty of his crime; it was Our Lady who did it.'—'Give me the letter,' said one of the spectators; 'the famous Jacobin doctor who is preaching the Lent sermons at St. Bartholomew's dines with me to-day. I will show it to him.' When the dinner-hour came, the company invited by this citizen arrived, and among them was the celebrated preacher of the Rue St. Jacques in his white robe and scapulary and pointed hood. This Jacobin monk was no holiday inquisitor. He understood the great importance of the letter, and, quitting the table, hastened with it to Beda, who, quite overjoyed at the discovery, eagerly laid it before the court. The christian gentleman was ruined. The judges found the letter very compromising. 'Let the said Berquin,' they ordered, 'be closely confined in a strong tower.' This was done. Beda, on his side, displayed fresh activity; for time pressed, and it was necessary to strike a decisive blow. With some the impetuous syndic spoke gently, with others he spoke loudly; he employed threats and promises, and nothing seemed to tire him. From that hour Berquin's case appeared desperate. Most of his friends abandoned him; they were afraid lest Margaret's intervention, always so powerful, should now prove unavailing. The captive alone did not give way to despair. Although shut up in a strong tower, he possessed liberty and joy, and uplifting his soul to God, he hoped even against hope. [Sidenote: BERQUIN'S SENTENCE.]