Everything indicated that the blow would be struck. On the afternoon of the very day when the sentence had been delivered, Maillard, the lieutenant-criminal, with the archers, bowmen, and arquebusiers of the city, surrounded the Conciergerie. It was thought that Berquin's last hour had come, and an immense crowd hurried to the spot. 'More than twenty thousand people came to see the execution,' says a manuscript.[108] 'They are going to take one of the king's officers to the Grève,' said the spectators. Maillard, leaving his troops under arms, entered the prison, ordered the martyr's cell to be opened, and told him that he had come to execute the sentence. 'I have appealed to the king,' replied the prisoner. The lieutenant-criminal withdrew. Everybody expected to see him followed by Berquin, and all eyes were fixed upon the gate; but no one appeared. The commander of the troops ordered them to retire; the archers marched back, and 'the great throng of people that was round the court-house and in the city separated.' The first president immediately called the court together, to take the necessary measures. 'We must lose no time,' said some, 'for the king has twice already rescued him from our hands.' Was there no hope left? [Sidenote: BUDÆUS TRIES TO SAVE BERQUIN.] There were in France at that time two men of the noblest character, both friends of learning, whose whole lives had been consecrated to doing what was right: they were Budæus on the bench, and Berquin in his cell. The first was united to the second by the purest friendship, and his only thought was how to save him. But what could he do singly against the parliament and the Sorbonne? Budæus shuddered when he heard of his friend's appeal; he knew the danger to which this step exposed him, and hastened to the prison. 'Pray do not appeal!' said he; 'a second sentence is all ready, and it orders you to be put to death. If you accept the first, we shall be able to save you eventually. Pray do not ruin yourself!' Berquin, a more decided man than Budæus, would rather die than make any concession to error. His friend, however, did not slacken his exertions; he desired at whatever risk to save one of the most distinguished men of France. Three whole days were spent by him in the most energetic efforts.[109] He had hardly quitted his friend before he returned and sat down by his side or walked with him sorrowfully up and down the prison. He entreated him for his own safety, for the good of the Church, and for the welfare of France. Berquin made no reply; only, after a long appeal from Budæus, he gave a nod of dissent. Berquin, says the historian of the University of Paris, 'sustained the encounter with indomitable obstinacy.'[110] [Sidenote: BERQUIN'S FALL AND RECOVERY]