“to live in obedience to God, the Roman Church, and the King.”[138] In the same month the magistrates of Anjou complain to the cardinal, that “the seditious remnants of Amboise, uniting with the depraved nobility to the number of 1000 or 1200, celebrate the communion and disturb the country.”[139] As the barbarous orders of the court could not be kept secret, they only served to exasperate the Huguenots. Becoming more aggressive, they appropriated many of the churches to their own use, turning out the priests, whom they often cruelly maltreated. The sacred edifices they purified, as they called it, by destroying the pictures, breaking down the roods, throwing away the relics, and giving the consecrated wafer to swine. We can hardly picture to ourselves the horror excited in Catholic minds by such outrages. It may be compared with the thrill of agony that ran through England, when the atrocities of the Sepoy mutiny became known. The Duke of Guise retaliated with unrelenting ferocity. He was governor of Dauphiny, and, to intimidate that province, he ordered one Maugiron, a creature of his and afterward governor of Lyons, to make an example of the people of Valence and Romans. These places were taken by a foul stratagem, two of the Huguenot ministers were beheaded, and the principal citizens were hanged, and their houses given up to pillage. One ferocity begot another. Two Reformed gentlemen, Montbrun and Mouvans, raised the country, destroying or defiling churches, opening convents and turning out the inmates, especially the nuns, and ill-using the priests, and defiantly celebrating public worship under arms. The subsequent history of Anthony Derichiend, seigneur of Mouvans, furnishes a striking illustration of the lawlessness and insecurity of the times. Being tired of war, he and his brother Paul returned to their homes at Castellane in Provence, intending to pass the remainder of their days in God’s service. They did not, however, find the quiet they had expected. They were much annoyed by their neighbors, and during Lent a grey friar went into the pulpit and so inflamed the people against them that they were besieged in their own house by a mob of several hundred men. They escaped this peril, and Anthony appealed to Henry for protection, which was granted (1559). While he was on his way to Grenoble, to lay his case before the Parliament, as the king had bidden him, he halted at Draguignan. The children, instigated by certain priests, began to hoot at him as “a Lutheran,” and in a short time a fierce mob crowded round the house in which he had taken shelter. Hoping to save his life, he surrendered into the hands of the officers of justice, who were too weak, and probably not over-anxious, to protect him. The mob tore him out of their hands, beat him to death, and inflicted brutalities on his corpse which it is impossible to describe. Among other things they plucked out his heart and other