And now he was there; and the life of the little Swiss University town lay behind him, too recent to be forgotten: the life of a “well-fortified city,” with the great Gothic fabric of a Cathedral in its midst, on one of whose four cannon-mounted turrets there stood “a continual Sentinel.” It was a Cathedral, of course, no longer. It was there that the celebrated Dr. John Diodati, and the brilliant young Professor Morice better known as Alexander Morus, “poet and chief professor of the University,” discoursed eloquently after the discipline of Calvin and Beza.[114] Dr. Diodati preached on Thursdays in Italian to his Italian Protestant Congregation, and on Sundays in French, with his hat on, after the “French mode.” Dr. Diodati lived at the Villa Diodati, on the south bank of the lake, two miles out of the city: the old Bishop’s Palace was now the prison. The University was a “faire structure,” with its class-rooms, its hall, and its excellent library. And Divines and Professors, in their gowns and caps and hats, flitted about the wooden-arcaded streets. There was an “aboundance of bookesellers”; and good screwed guns and Geneva watches, pewter and cutlery, were to be bought; and amongst the hoary relics of Julius Cæsar and a pagan Rome there stood the Town Hall, with the Cross Keys, and the City Motto: _Post Tenebras Lux_.[115] The only _Campus Martius_ that Robyn had ever known had been the fields outside Geneva, where every Sunday after the evening devotions the young townsmen were allowed to exercise their arms, practising diligently with the gun and the long and cross bows, for prizes of pewter plates and dishes. Robert Boyle had brought his bows and arrows back with him to London. He must have practised with the rest, as John Evelyn did two years later, on that peaceful _Champs de Mars_, and played with the rest on its “noble Pall Mall.” He had known the gardens of rare tulips and other choice flowers outside the earthen fortifications, and he must have seen Geneva also in its sterner moods. For that same “Mars’ Field” was the place of public execution; and in Geneva there was then no hospitality of extradition-law. Capital crime in other countries was capital crime there. Fugitives from other countries were put to death in the sunshine of that spacious field; and for the Genevans, by Genevan law, adultery was death.[116]