It was Sunday morning, and the bells were tolling for church.  Upon leaving the house he loitered about the courtyard, furtively examining the premises, so that a sergeant of halberdiers asked him why he was waiting there.  Balthazar meekly replied that he was desirous of attending divine worship in the church opposite, but added, pointing to, his shabby and travel-stained attire, that, without at least a new pair of shoes and stockings, he was unfit to join the congregation.  Insignificant as ever, the small, pious, dusty stranger excited no suspicion in the mind of the good-natured sergeant.  He forthwith spoke of the wants of Gerard to an officer, by whom they were communicated to Orange himself, and the Prince instantly ordered a sum of money to be given him.  Thus Balthazar obtained from William’s charity what Parma’s thrift had denied—­a fund for carrying out his purpose.

Next morning, with the money thus procured he purchased a pair of pistols, or small carabines, from a soldier, chaffering long about the price because the vender could not supply a particular kind of chopped bullets or slugs which he desired.  Before the sunset of the following day that soldier had stabbed himself to the heart, and died despairing, on hearing for what purpose the pistols had been bought.

On Tuesday, the 10th of July, 1584, at about half-past twelve, the Prince, with his wife on his arm, and followed by the ladies and gentlemen of his family, was going to the dining-room.  William the Silent was dressed upon that day, according to his usual custom, in very plain fashion.  He wore a wide-leaved, loosely-shaped hat of dark felt; with a silken cord round the crown-such as had been worn by the Beggars in the early days of the revolt.  A high ruff encircled his neck, from which also depended one of the Beggar’s medals, with the motto, “Fideles au roy jusqu’a la besace,” while a loose surcoat of grey frieze cloth, over a tawny leather doublet, with wide, slashed underclothes completed his costume.  Gerard presented himself at the doorway, and demanded a passport.  The Princess, struck with the pale and agitated countenance of the man, anxiously questioned her husband concerning the stranger.  The Prince carelessly observed that “it was merely a person who came for a passport,” ordering, at the same time, a secretary forthwith to prepare one.  The Princess, still not relieved, observed in an under-tone that “she had never seen so villainous a countenance.”  Orange, however, not at all impressed with the appearance of Gerard, conducted himself at table with his usual cheerfulness, conversing much with the burgomaster of Leewarden, the only guest present at the family dinner, concerning the political and religious aspects of Friesland.  At two o’clock the company rose from table.  The Prince led the way, intending to pass to his private apartments above.  The dining-room, which was on the ground floor, opened into a little square vestibule, which communicated,