'Alas! father,' he said to Farel, 'how can I face the enemies from whom you were compelled to flee?'—'Begin,' replied Farel, 'as I began at Aigle, where I was a schoolmaster at first and taught little children, so that even the priests gave me liberty to preach. True they soon repented; and even now I seem to hear the curate exclaiming: "I would sooner have lost my hand than introduced this man, for he will ruin all our business." But it was too late; the Word of God had begun its work, and the mass and images fell.' Froment, who was at that time full of ardour and zeal, began to familiarise himself gradually with the idea of going to the city that drove out the prophets. Farel, observing this, persevered, and encouraged his disciple by the recollection of the great dangers they had once incurred together. 'My dear Froment,' he said, 'you fear the men of Geneva; but were you not with me when I planted the Gospel at Bienne, among the mountains, in the valley of Saint Imier, at Tavannes, and near that mountain (Pierre Pertuis) which Julius Cæsar tunnelled?... Were you not with me when I went to Neuchatel and preached in the streets and market-place, and in the surrounding villages? Do you not remember that we very often received our rent (_censes_), that is, blows and abuse ... once in particular at Valengin, where my blood remained for more than four years on the pavement of a little chapel, near which the women and priests bruised my head against the walls, so that we were both of us nearly killed?'[535] These remembrances were not very encouraging. Some sided with Farel, others thought that a man of twenty-two was too young to be launched into such a terrible gulf ... for Geneva really alarmed them. Froment could not yet make up his mind to attempt the enterprise. Another thought absorbed Farel. [Sidenote: OLIVETAN'S SCRUPLES OVERCOME.]