Anjou, thus addressed, protested in the most solemn manner that nothing was farther from his thoughts than any secret enterprise against Antwerp.  He was willing, according to the figure of speech which he had always ready upon every emergency, “to shed every drop of his blood in her defence.”  He swore that he would signally punish all those who had dared to invent such calumnies against himself and his faithful Frenchmen, declaring earnestly, at the same time, that the troops had only been assembled in the regular course of their duty.  As the Duke was so loud and so fervent; as he, moreover, made no objections to the precautionary measures which had been taken; as the burgomaster thought, moreover, that the public attention thus aroused would render all evil designs futile, even if any had been entertained; it was thought that the city might sleep in security for that night at least.

On the following, morning, as vague suspicions were still entertained by many influential persons, a deputation of magistrates and militia officers waited upon the Duke, the Prince of Orange—­although himself still feeling a confidence which seems now almost inexplicable—­consenting to accompany them.  The Duke was more vehement than ever in his protestations of loyalty to his recent oaths, as well as of deep affection for the Netherlands—­for Brabant in particular, and for Antwerp most of all, and he made use of all his vivacity to persuade the Prince, the burgomasters, and the colonels, that they had deeply wronged him by such unjust suspicions.  His assertions were accepted as sincere, and the deputation withdrew, Anjou having first solemnly promised—­at the suggestion of Orange—­not to leave the city during the whole day, in order that unnecessary suspicion might be prevented.

This pledge the Duke proceeded to violate almost as soon as made.  Orange returned with confidence to his own house, which was close to the citadel, and therefore far removed from the proposed point of attack, but he had hardly arrived there when he received a visit from the Duke’s private secretary, Quinsay, who invited him to accompany his Highness on a visit to the camp.  Orange declined the request, and sent an earnest prayer to the Duke not to leave the city that morning.  The Duke dined as usual at noon.  While at dinner he received a letter; was observed to turn pale on reading it, and to conceal it hastily in a muff which he wore on his left arm.  The repast finished, the Duke ordered his horse.  The animal was restive, and so, strenuously resisted being mounted that, although it was his usual charger; it was exchanged for another.  This second horse started in such a flurry that the Duke lost his cloak, and almost his seat.  He maintained his self-possession, however, and placing himself at the head of his bodyguard and some troopers, numbering in all three hundred mounted men, rode out of the palace-yard towards the Kipdorp gate.