One day he decided to drive her up the bell tower of the choir school; to the very pinnacle of the palace. This really happened--two hundred thousand Provencal folk will tell you they've seen it! Imagine the terror of the luckless mule, when, after being shoved blindly up a spiral staircase and climbing who knows how many steps, she found herself suddenly dazzled on a brilliantly lit platform from where she could see the whole of a fantastic Avignon far below her, the market stalls no bigger than hazel nuts, the Pope's soldiers in front of their barracks looking like red ants, and there on a silvery thread, a tiny, microscopic bridge where _l'on y dansait, l'on y dansait_. Oh, the poor beast! She really panicked. She cried out loud enough to rattle the palace windows. --What's the matter, what's happening to her? cried the Pope rushing to his balcony. Tistet Védène, already back down in the courtyard, was pretending to cry and pull out his hair, --Oh, most Holy Father, it's ... it's your mule.... My lord, how will it all end? Your mule has climbed up into the bell tower.... --All alone? --Yes, most Holy Father, all alone.... Look, look at her, up there.... Can't you see the end her ears sticking up?... They look like a couple of swallows from here.... --God help us! said the Pope beside himself and looking up.... She must have gone mad! She's going to kill herself.... Come down, you fool!... Well! there was nothing she would have liked better ... but how? The stairs were not to be entertained, you could climb them alright, but coming down was a different story; there were a hundred different ways to break your legs.... The poor mule was very distressed, and wandered about the platform, her huge eyes spinning from vertigo, and contemplated Tistet Védène, --Well, you swine, if I get out of this alive ... tomorrow morning will bring you such a kicking! The thought of revenge revitalised her; without it she couldn't possibly have held on. At last, somebody managed to bring her down, but it was quite a struggle needing ropes, a block and tackle, and a cradle. Imagine what a humiliation it was for a Pope's mule to find herself hanging from a great height, legs thrashing about like a fly caught in a web. Just about everyone in Avignon was there to witness it.