If a servile crowd was preparing to sacrifice to a priest the liberties of the people and the Word of God, those who esteemed these treasures far above all others, anticipated with sorrow that all the old vexations were about to be revived. The Two Hundred were assembled: one proud huguenot, jealous of the political liberties, could not contain himself, and rising in the Council, said: 'There is a report that the mamelukes who deserted the city some seven years ago are to escort the bishop and return with him: I ask if it is true?' Instantly the storm broke out. Some said 'Yes!' others 'No!' The debate grew warm; they provoked and abused each other, gave one another the lie, and used very irritating language.[746] At last the huguenots conquered, and the Two Hundred ordered that the mamelukes should not be allowed to enter, for fear that there should be discord instead of harmony in the city. The syndics foresaw that such a resolution would probably excite confusion in the procession accompanying the bishop; and as they wished to avoid all disputes, they sought an opportunity for bringing men's minds together. Assembling the leaders of the opposing parties, they entreated them, as a sign of peace, to dine together. Such a banquet, they thought, would reconcile factions and dissipate the fears of the prelate. It was an _argumentum ad hominem_. How could Pierre de la Baume be afraid of men who drank together? Libations were indeed copiously poured out in honour of concord, for the Genevans were always ready in this respect; but the convictions of the two parties remained the same. Wine had no power to change either the champions of the pope or of the people, neither the Guelphs nor the Ghibelines.[747] On Tuesday, 1st of July, the prince-bishop descended the Jura, attended by his chancellors, the president De Gevigny and many of the nobility, meditating the counter-revolution he hoped to bring about. The Friburg deputies, 'knowing the prelate's timid humour,'[748] went to meet him at Gex, in order to protect his entrance. They turned back with him and drew near the city. This event, which filled the catholics with joy, was a great trouble to the proud huguenots and pious evangelicals, and nearly broke their hearts. The procession seemed to them like a funeral train. Were independence, liberty, the growing Reform—those inestimable riches which are the life of man—to be carried like a dead body to the grave? Were those bells, just beginning to ring, tolling a funeral knell? Everything seemed to point that way.