Before the courier could arrive from the Hague, all that was left of Mr Krause’s property was the bare walls.  Merchandises, everything was consumed, and part of the building had fallen into the canal and choked it up, while fifteen schuyts waiting to be discharged of their cargoes had been obliged to retreat from the fury of the flames, the phlegmatic skippers looking on with their pipes in their mouths, and their hands in their wide breeches-pockets.

The loyal mob having effected their object, gradually retired.  It is singular, that popular feeling is always expressed in the same way.  Had the mob collected for disloyal purposes, they would have shown their disloyalty just in the like manner, only it would have been the Stadt House instead of that of Mynheer Krause.

But now there was a fresh impetus given to the feelings of the mob.  The news had been spread like wildfire, that Mynheer the syndic had been proved innocent, and ordered to be immediately liberated, and was sent for by his Majesty; upon which, the mob were undecided, whether they should prove their indignation, at this unjust imprisonment of their worthy magistrate, by setting fire to some public building, or by carrying him in triumph to his own house, which they forgot they had burnt down.  Fortunately they decided upon the latter, they surrounded the Stadt House with cries of “Long life to our worthy syndic—­prosperity to Mynheer Krause,” and rushing up stairs, they caught him in their arms, and carried him triumphantly through the streets bringing him at last to the smoking ruins of his own house, and there they left him; they had done all they could, they had carried him there in triumph, but, as for building the house up again, that was impossible; so, as Mynheer Krause looked with dismay at the wreck of all his property, the loyal mob dispersed, each feeling that he had been a little too hasty in possessing himself of a small share of it.  What a fine thing is loyalty!  Mynheer Krause found himself alone; he looked with scorn and indignation upon the scene of violence, and then walked away to an hotel, particularly disgusted with the loyal cry of “Long live King William.”

In the meantime, the door of the dungeon where the widow Vandersloosh was incarcerated was thrown open, and she was informed that she was no longer a prisoner.  The widow indignant that she should have been confined for her loyalty, raved and walked majestically out of the Stadt House, not deigning to answer to the compliments offered to her by some of the inferior officers.  Her bosom swelled with indignation, and she was determined to tell his Majesty a bit of her mind, if she should obtain access to him; and the next day she took the trouble to go all the way to the Hague, again to see his Majesty, but his Majesty wasn’t at home, and Lord Albemarle to whom she sent in, was indisposed, and his Grace the Duke of Portland was particularly engaged; so the widow had the journey for nothing, and she declared to Babette, that she never would put her foot under the palace roof again as long as she lived.