stical law.
The story of renewed tortures inflicted on their helpless comrade, and
their knowledge of the certain death that awaited him, stirred the blood
of the patriots of Geneva. It was just the moment for the prior of St.
Victor to show that the studies at Freiburg and Turin that had made him
_doctor utriusque juris_ had not been in vain. He would fight the bishop
with his own weapon of Church law. He despatched Pecolat's own brother
with letters to the archbishop of Vienne, metropolitan to the bishop of
Geneva, and, using his family influence, which was not small, he secured
a summons to the bishop and chapter of Geneva to appear before the
archiepiscopal court and give account of the affair, and meanwhile to
cease all proceedings against the prisoner.

[Illustration: THE DUNGEON OF BONIVARD.]

It was comparatively easy to procure the summons. The difficulty was to
find some one competent to the functions of episcopal usher and bold
enough to serve it. Bonivard bethought him of a "caitiff wretch"--an
obscure priest--to whom he handed the document with two round dollars
lying on it, and bade him hand the paper to the bishop at mass the next
day in the cathedral. The starving clergyman hesitated long between his
fears and his necessities, but finally promised to do the work on
condition that the prior should stand by him in person and see him
through. The hour approached, and the commissioner's courage was oozing
rapidly away. His knees knocked together, and he slipped back in the
crowd, hoping to escape. The vigilant prior darted after him, seized
him, and laying his hand on the dagger that he wore under his robe
whispered in his ear, "Do it or I'll stab you!" He adds, in his
_Chronicles_, "I should have been as good as my word: I do not say it by
way of boasting. I know I was acting like a fool, but I was quite beside
myself with anxiety for my friend." Happily, there was no need of
extreme measures. He gripped his terrified victim by the thumb, and as
the procession moved toward the church-door he thrust the paper into his
hand, saying, "Now's the time! You've got to do it." And all the time he
held him fast by the thumb. The bishop came near, and Bonivard let go
the wretch's thumb and pushed him to the front, pointing to the prelate
and saying, "Do your work!" The bishop turned pale with terror of
assassination as he heard the words. But the trembling clerk, not less
terrified than the bishop, dropped on his kn