to intrigue against them.  In the evening, the Prince complained that the estates had been so precipitate in concluding their arrangement with Don John.  He mentioned several articles in the treaty which were calculated to excite distrust; dwelling particularly on the engagement entered into by the estates to maintain the Catholic religion.  This article he declared to be in direct contravention to the Ghent treaty, by which this point was left to the decision of a future assembly of the estates-general.  Leoninus essayed, as well as he could, to dispute these positions.  In their last interview, the Prince persisted in his intention of laying the whole matter before the states of Holland and Zealand.  Not to do so, he said, would be to expose himself to ruin on one side, and on the other, to the indignation of those who might suspect him of betraying them.  The envoy begged to be informed if any hope could be entertained of a future arrangement.  Orange replied that he had no expectation of any, but advised Doctor Leoninus to be present at Dort when the estates should assemble.

Notwithstanding the unfavorable result, of this mission, Don John did not even yet despair of bending the stubborn character of the Prince.  He hoped that, if a personal interview between them could be arranged, he should be able to remove many causes of suspicion from the mind of his adversary.  “In such times as these,” wrote the Governor to Philip, “we can make no election, nor do I see any remedy to preserve the state from destruction, save to gain over this man, who has so much influence with the nation.”  The Prince had, in truth, the whole game in his hands.  There was scarcely a living creature in Holland and Zealand who was not willing to be bound by his decision in every emergency.  Throughout the rest of the provinces, the mass of the people looked up to him with absolute confidence, the clergy and the prominent nobles respecting and fearing him, even while they secretly attempted to thwart his designs.  Possessing dictatorial power in two provinces, vast influences in the other fifteen, nothing could be easier for him than to betray his country.  The time was singularly propitious.  The revengeful King was almost on his knees to the denounced rebel.  Everything was proffered:  pardon, advancement, power.  An indefinite vista was opened.  “You cannot imagine,” said Don John, “how much it will be within my ability to do for you.”  The Governor was extremely anxious to purchase the only enemy whom Philip feared.  The Prince had nothing personally to gain by a continuance of the contest.  The ban, outlawry, degradation, pecuniary. ruin, assassination, martyrdom—­these were the only guerdons he could anticipate.  He had much to lose:  but yesterday loaded with dignities, surrounded by pomp and luxury, with many children to inherit his worldly gear, could he not recover all; and more than all, to-day?  What service had he to render in exchange?  A mere nothing.  He had but to abandon the convictions of a lifetime, and to betray a million or two of hearts which trusted him.