“Our loss is greater than I wish it was,” wrote Alexander to Philip:  “It was a very close thing, and I have never been more anxious in my life as to the result for your Majesty’s service.  The whole fate of the battle was hanging all the time by a thread.”  More than ever were reinforcements necessary, and it was only by a miracle that the victory had at last been gained with such slender resources. “’Tis a large, long, laborious, expensive, and most perilous war,” said Parma, when urging the claims of Capizucca and Aquila, “for we have to fight every minute; and there are no castles and other rewards, so that if soldiers are not to have promotion, they will lose their spirit.”  Thirty-two of the rebel vessels grounded, and fell into the hands of the Spaniards, who took from them many excellent pieces of artillery.  The result was most conclusive and most disheartening for the patriots.

Meantime—­as we have seen—­Hohenlo and Sainte Aldegonde had reached Antwerp in breathless haste to announce their triumph.  They had been met on the quay by groups of excited citizens, who eagerly questioned the two generals arriving thus covered with laurels from the field of battle, and drank with delight all the details of the victory.  The poor dying Spinola was exhibited in triumph, the boat-load of breadstuffs received with satisfaction, and vast preparations were made to receive, on wharves and in storehouses, the plentiful supplies about to arrive.  Beacons and bonfires were lighted, the bells from all the steeples rang their merriest peals, cannon thundered in triumph not only in Antwerp itself, but subsequently at Amsterdam and other more distant cities.  In due time a magnificent banquet was spread in the town-house to greet the conquering Hohenlo.  Immense gratification was expressed by those of the reformed religion; dire threats were uttered against the Catholics.  Some were for hanging them all out of hand, others for throwing them into the Scheldt; the most moderate proposed packing them all out of town so soon as the siege should be raised—­an event which could not now be delayed many days longer.

Hohenlo, placed on high at the head of the banquet-table, assumed the very god of war.  Beside and near him sat the loveliest dames of Antwerp, rewarding his bravery with their brightest smiles.  The Count drained huge goblets to their health, to the success of the patriots, and to the confusion of the royalists, while, as he still drank and feasted, the trumpet, kettle-drum, and cymbal, and merry peal of bell without, did honour to his triumph.  So gay and gallant was the victor, that he announced another banquet on the following day, still further to celebrate the happy release of Antwerp, and invited the fair ladies around him again to grace the board.  It is recorded that the gentlewoman next him responded with a sigh, that, if her presentiments were just, the morrow would scarcely be so joyful as the present day had been, and that she doubted whether the triumph were not premature.