Nevertheless, heresy, fortified by persecution, and exulting in danger, now spread its ravages over the whole of Vervignole. All over the kingdom there were seen in the fields thousands of naked men and women, nibbling the grass, bleating, lowing, roaring, neighing, and contending at night with sheep, cattle, and horses for the use of stable and manger. The inquisitor informed the Holy Father of these horrible scandals, and warned him that so long as the Protector of the Edenites, the odious Nicolas, remained seated on the throne of St. Cromadaire, the evil could only continue to increase. Conformably with this advice the Pope hurled against the Bishop, like a thunderbolt, the Bull _Deterrima quondam_, by which he deprived him of all his ecclesiastical functions, and cut him off from the communion of the faithful. CHAPTER VI CRUSHED by the Vicar of Jesus Christ, steeped in bitterness, overwhelmed by affliction, the holy Nicolas stepped down without regret from his illustrious seat, and departed, no more to return thither, from the city of Trinqueballe, which for thirty years had witnessed his pontifical virtues and apostolic labours. There is in western Vervignole a lofty mountain, whose peals are covered with perpetual snow; from its flanks there descend, in spring, the foaming sonorous cascades that fill the valley torrents with a water as blue as the sky. There, in a region where grow the larch, the arbutus, and the hazel, some hermits supported themselves on berries and milk. This mountain is called that of the Saviour. It was here that St. Nicolas resolved to take refuge, and, far from the world, to weep for his sins and those of man. As he was climbing the mountain in search of some wild spot where he might establish his habitation, having emerged above the clouds which are almost always gathered about the flanks of the peak, he saw upon the threshold of a hut an old man sharing his bread with a tame hind. His hair fell over his forehead, and nothing could be perceived of his face but the tip of his nose and a long white beard. The holy Nicolas greeted him with these words: “Peace be with you, brother.” “It delights to dwell upon this mountain,” answered the recluse. “I also,” replied the holy Nicolas, “have come hither to end, in calm, days which have been disturbed by the tumult of the times and the malignity of men.” As he was speaking in this wise, the hermit gazed at him attentively. “Are you not,” he said at length, “the Bishop of Trinqueballe, that Nicolas whose work and virtues are extolled by men?” When, by a sign, the holy pontiff admitted that he was that man, the hermit threw himself at his feet. “Monseigneur, to you I owe the saving of my soul, if, as I hope, my soul is saved.” Nicolas raised him with kindness, and asked him: “My brother, how have I had the happiness to work for your salvation?”