The treasurer-general accordingly gave his memorable banquet to a distinguished party of noblemen.  The conversation, during dinner, turned, as was inevitable, upon the Cardinal.  His ostentation, greediness, insolence, were fully canvassed.  The wine flowed freely as it always did in those Flemish festivities—­the brains of the proud and reckless cavaliers became hot with excitement, while still the odious ecclesiastic was the topic of their conversation, the object alternately of fierce invective or of scornful mirth.  The pompous display which he affected in his equipages, liveries, and all the appurtenances of his household, had frequently excited their derision, and now afforded fresh matter for their ridicule.  The customs of Germany, the simple habiliments in which the retainers of the greatest houses were arrayed in that country, were contrasted with the tinsel and glitter in which the prelate pranked himself.  It was proposed, by way of showing contempt for Granvelle, that a livery should be forthwith invented, as different as possible from his in general effect, and that all the gentlemen present should indiscriminately adopt it for their own menials.  Thus would the people whom the Cardinal wished to dazzle with his finery learn to estimate such gauds at their true value.  It was determined that something extremely plain, and in the German fashion, should be selected.  At the same time, the company, now thoroughly inflamed with wine, and possessed by the spirit of mockery, determined that a symbol should be added to the livery, by which the universal contempt for Granvelle should be expressed.  The proposition was hailed with acclamation, but who should invent the hieroglyphical costume?  All were reckless and ready enough, but ingenuity of device was required.  At last it was determined to decide the question by hazard.  Amid shouts of hilarity, the dice were thrown.  Those men were staking their lives, perhaps, upon the issue, but the reflection gave only a keener zest to the game.  Egmont won.  It was the most fatal victory which he had ever achieved, a more deadly prize even than the trophies of St. Quentin and Gravelingen.

In a few days afterwards, the retainers of the house of Egmont surprised Brussels by making their appearance in a new livery.  Doublet and hose of the coarsest grey, and long hanging sleeves, without gold or silver lace, and having but a single ornament, comprised the whole costume.  An emblem which seemed to resemble a monk’s cowl, or a fool’s cap and bells, was embroidered upon each sleeve.  The device pointed at the Cardinal, as did, by contrast, the affected coarseness of the dress.  There was no doubt as to the meaning of the hood, but they who saw in the symbol more resemblance to the jester’s cap, recalled certain biting expressions which Granvelle had been accustomed to use.  He had been wont, in the days of his greatest insolence, to speak of the most eminent nobles as zanies, lunatics, and buffoons.