The more Calvin reflected on Duchemin's position the more it alarmed him. He thought himself on the point of losing one of the earliest objects of his tender affection. A few moments longer on the verge of the abyss and his friend would fall into it. He called to him with all his strength and with a cry of anguish. 'I feel very great regret for your condition,' he said. 'I am sorry that you are not permitted to extricate yourself from that Egypt where so many monsters are always before you. A man thinks to himself that it is of no great importance to trifle a little in order to preserve the favor of the people, and to take part with others in wicked ceremonies. Then one foot is placed a little further on, and thus declining gradually, he falls from the straight path, and is precipitated to ruin and perdition. Let us be careful never to recede, even a nail's breadth, from the obedience due to our heavenly Father. Awake, then, awake, most virtuous man! Display in your actions such piety, goodness, charity, chastity, and innocence, that the superstitious, even while vexed that you are not like them, may be constrained to confess, whether they will or not, that you are the servant of God.'[802] [Sidenote: CALVIN'S APPEAL TO ROUSSEL.] It was not long before the Reformer received still more distressing news. It was not merely a disciple, it was a teacher who grieved him. One of the men whom he esteemed the most was not only exposed to peril, but had succumbed. Calvin learnt that, on the death of Pierre d'Albret, bishop of Oleron, Queen Margaret of Navarre, who was falling away from evangelical simplicity, had sent to Rome to beg the vacant see for Roussel; and that, after some difficulty, the court of the Vatican had granted the favor. Roussel a bishop, and by favor of the pope! Calvin was amazed. People wrote to him that the appointment had been celebrated by the poets of Bearne, and that Roussel was overwhelmed with congratulations; and Calvin wondered whether his friend, amid the seducing songs of the sirens, would lend an ear to his warnings. He determined, however, to give utterance to the solemn voice of faithfulness. The stern language he addressed to the new bishop shows us, more clearly than the cleverest portrait, the great decision of his soul. 'It will seem to you that I dream,' he wrote to Roussel, 'if alone among the multitude of those who flatter you, I come to disturb the rejoicings. And yet, if you suffer yourself in the least degree to be cozened by such prettinesses, they will lead you into a heavy and dangerous forgetfulness. Those who have once drunk, be it but a little drop, of that cup of the Roman table, are intoxicated and bewitched.'[803]