The festival of Corpus Christi was approaching, and the catholics hoped by that imposing ceremony to bring back some of those who had left them; but their expectations were disappointed. The most enlightened and honorable men of Geneva had no longer any taste for these feasts—not because of their antiquity, but because they were in their opinion founded on serious errors, and shocked their enlightened sentiments. The thought that a wafer, consecrated by a priest, was about to be paraded through the city to receive divine honors, revolted evangelical Christians. They determined not to join in the procession, or to shut up their houses, but to work as on ordinary days. When the priests and their adherents heard of this, they imagined that the Lutherans intended attacking them during their progress; but, on being reassured, they took courage and the devout began to file off. There was not the least act of violence, but only a silent protest; many houses before which the procession passed were without hangings, and through the open windows ‘the Lutheran dames were seen in velvet hoods busily spinning with their distaffs or working with their needles.’ Vainly did the priests sing and the splendid cortège defile through the streets: the velvet-hooded ladies remained motionless. Gross insults would not have enraged the devotees so much. One of them seeing a window open on the ground-floor and a protestant lady filling her distaff, reached into the room, snatched away the distaff, struck her violently on the head with it, threw it into the mud, trampled on it, and disappeared among the crowd. The startled lady screamed out, and (says Sister Jeanne) nearly died of fright. Notwithstanding this act of violence, the protestants remained quiet. Everything helped the cause of Reform: neither the grotesque nor unseemly dances of the populace, nor the sanctimonious processions of the clergy, were able to paralyze in Geneva the power of the doctrine from on high.[591] An act of a new convert still further increased the murmurs. When Louis Bernard threw off the surplice he returned to civil life: he soon became a member of the Two Hundred, and afterwards of the Executive Council. Being an upright man and desirous of leading a Christian life, he married a widow of good family, and Viret blessed their union. The marriage created a great sensation. ‘What!’ exclaimed the catholics, ‘priests and monks with wives!’ ‘Yes!’ rejoined the reformers, ‘you think it strange they should have lawful wives, but you were not surprised when they had unlawful wives, the practice was so general. What foxy consciences are yours! You confess to brushing off the dew with your tail as you crossed the meadows, but not of having stolen the poor man’s poultry!’ Bernard justified by his conduct the step that he had taken. The men who had been dissolute priests became good fathers,[592] and society was gainer by the exchange. [Sidenote: Discussion Before The Council.]