anner of the town,
and no more to ring the belfry-chimes which indicated the beginning and
the ending of their sessions.

Wrath and uproar succeeded this decree. The burghers had tasted the
sweets of liberty, and were not ready to lose their dearly-bought
independence. So violent were they that the king himself was frightened,
and hastily left his hotel for the stronger walls of the episcopal
palace. At dawn of the next day, partly in fear and perhaps partly in
shame, he departed from Laon with all his train, leaving the Easter
festival to take place without him.

It was destined to be a serious festival for Bishop Gaudri and his crew
of base-souled followers. The king had left a harvest of indignation
behind him. On the day after his going all shops and taverns were kept
closed and nothing was sold; every one remained at home, nursing his
wrath. The next day the anger of the citizens grew more demonstrative. A
rumor spread that the bishop and grandees were busy calculating the
fortunes of the citizens, that they might force from them the sum
promised the king. The burghers assembled in burning indignation, and
forty of them bound themselves by oath to kill the bishop and all those
who had aided him to destroy the commune.

Some rumor of this got afloat. Anselm, the arch-deacon, warned the
bishop that his life was in danger, and urged him not to leave his
house, and, in particular, not to accompany the procession on
Easter-day. Thus Caesar had been warned, and had contemned the warning.
Gaudri emulated him, and answered, with a sneer of contempt,--

"Pooh! _I_ die by the hands of such fellows!"

Easter-day came. The bishop did not appear at matins, or at the later
church service. But, lest he should be called coward, he joined the
procession, followed by his clergy and domestics, and by a number of
knights with arms and armor concealed under their clothes. Slowly
through the streets moved the procession, the people looking on in
lowering silence. As it passed a dark arch one of the forty rushed
suddenly out, crying, "Commune! commune!" No one joined him; the crowd
seemed intimidated; their feelings subsided in a murmur; the procession
continued on its way undisturbed.

The next day another procession took place. This day the bishop had
filled the town with peasants, who were charged to protect his church,
his palace, and himself. The people kept quiet. All went well. Bishop
Gaudri, satisfied that the talk of dang