It was the eve of St. John, the twenty-third of June, 1546, when the citizens of Saintes beheld a strange and ominous scene, the commencement of the horrors subsequently perpetrated within the walls of their ancient town. The day, being a gala one, was ushered in with music of every kind, while the whole population, down to the lowest of the multitude, were decorated with flowers. Old pitch-barrels and faggots, piled up along the banks of the river, lay in readiness for the illuminations of the evening, while games, dances, and banquets were the diversions of the day. In the afternoon, there were to be many hogsheads of claret delivered out, and a universal merry-making prevailed. From an early hour crowds hastened to perform their devotions at the shrine of the patron saint of the city, carrying with them their votive offerings with which to propitiate his favour. Among the multitude who thronged the high street at noon, were two men, one tall, and of a vigorous form, who looked with an air of thoughtful concern around him. He was still in the prime of manhood, and about his whole bearing there was a certain air of energetic intelligence, while, ever and anon, his eyes kindled with the fire of enthusiasm; one saw at once he was a worker, and that what his hands found to do would be done with all his might. His companion was small and deformed, and would not have awakened any interest save from the intense feeling visible on his pale, sunken countenance. The two were approaching the church of St. Eutropius, where the saint was displayed to the admiring gaze of the people. On entering the sacred edifice, all kneeled down reverently before a kind of cupboard with an iron grating before it, and at an awful distance made sundry genuflections, and uttered various prayers. At last, the attendant priests opened the door of the closet where the head of the saint was deposited, and displayed the treasure to view. It would be difficult to conceive an object less calculated to awaken feelings of true devotion than that presented for adoration. It was very large, and formed entirely of solid silver; the hair and an immense pair of whiskers were gilt, and the shoulders were covered with lawn, and decorated with glittering gems. All around were placed the gifts brought by the deluded people, who ascribed the most marvellous power of healing to this graven image. The divinity was absolutely encircled with their votive offerings. Group after group, alternately advancing and retiring, filled up the church, and then emerged into the busy streets to gaze upon the crowds of gaily bedecked revellers, and gossip over the news of the day.