The burghers, taking this rapid view of their position, flew instantly to arms.  Chains and barricades were stretched across the streets; the trumpets sounded through the city; the municipal guards swarmed to the rescue.  An effective rally was made, as usual, at the Bourse, whither a large detachment of the invaders had forced their way.  Inhabitants of all classes and conditions, noble and simple, Catholic and Protestant, gave each other the hand, and swore to die at each other’s side in defence of the city against the treacherous strangers.  The gathering was rapid and enthusiastic.  Gentlemen came with lance and cuirass, burghers with musket and bandoleer, artisans with axe, mallet, and other implements of their trade.  A bold baker, standing by his oven-stark naked, according to the custom of bakers at that day—­rushed to the street as the sound of the tumult reached his ear.  With his heavy bread shovel, which he still held in his hand, he dealt a French cavalry, officer, just riding and screaming by, such a hearty blow that he fell dead from his horse.  The baker seized the officer’s sword, sprang all unattired as he was, upon his steed, and careered furiously through the streets, encouraging his countrymen everywhere to the attack, and dealing dismay through the ranks of the enemy.  His services in that eventful hour were so signal that he was publicly thanked afterwards by the magistrates for his services, and rewarded with a pension of three hundred florins for life.

The invaders had been forced from the Bourse, while another portion of them had penetrated as far as the Market-place.  The resistance which they encountered became every instant more formidable, and Fervacques, a leading French officer, who was captured on the occasion, acknowledged that no regular troops could have fought more bravely than did these stalwart burghers.  Women and children mounted to roof and window, whence they hurled, not only tiles and chimney pots, but tables, ponderous chairs, and other bulky articles, upon the heads of the assailants, while such citizens as had used all their bullets, loaded their pieces with the silver buttons from their doublets, or twisted gold and silver coins with their teeth into ammunition.  With a population so resolute, the four thousand invaders, however audacious, soon found themselves swallowed up.  The city had closed over them like water, and within an hour nearly a third of their whole number had been slain.  Very few of the burghers had perished, and fresh numbers were constantly advancing to the attack.  The Frenchmen, blinded, staggering, beaten, attempted to retreat.  Many threw themselves from the fortifications into the moat.  The rest of the survivors struggled through the streets—­falling in large numbers at every step-towards the point at which they had so lately entered the city.  Here at the Kipdorp gate was a ghastly spectacle, the slain being piled up in the narrow passage full ten feet high, while some of the heap, not quite dead, were striving to extricate a hand or foot, and others feebly thrust forth their heads to gain a mouthful of air.