honour, which were as one.  These he was incapable of sacrificing, but his life he was ready to lay down.  There was, through some misapprehension, a delay in reporting this answer to Farnese.  Meantime that general became impatient, and advanced to the battery of the Italian regiment.  Pretending to be a plenipotentiary from the commander-in-chief, he expostulated in a loud voice at the slowness of their counsels.  Hardly had he begun to speak, when a shower of balls rattled about him.  His own soldiers were terrified at his danger, and a cry arose in the town that “Holofernese”—­as the Flemings and Germans were accustomed to nickname Farnese—­was dead.  Strange to relate, he was quite unharmed, and walked back to his tent with dignified slowness and a very frowning face.  It was said that this breach of truce had been begun by the Spaniards, who had fired first, and had been immediately answered by the town.  This was hotly denied, and Parma sent Colonel Tasais with a flag of truce to the commander, to rebuke and to desire an explanation of this dishonourable conduct.

The answer given, or imagined, was that Commander Kloet had been sound asleep, but that he now much regretted this untoward accident.  The explanation was received with derision, for it seemed hardly probable that so young and energetic a soldier would take the opportunity to refresh himself with slumber at a moment when a treaty for the capitulation of a city under his charge was under discussion.  This terminated the negotiation.

A few days afterwards, the feast of St James was celebrated in the Spanish camp, with bonfires and other demonstrations of hilarity.  The townsmen are said to have desecrated the same holiday by roasting alive in the market-place two unfortunate soldiers, who had been captured in a sortie a few days before; besides burning the body of the holy Saint Quirinus, with other holy relics.  The detestable deed was to be most horribly avenged.

A steady cannonade from forty-five great guns was kept up from 2 A.M. of July 15 until the dawn of the following day; the cannoneers—­being all provided with milk and vinegar to cool the pieces.  At daybreak the assault was ordered.  Eight separate attacks were made with the usual impetuosity of Spaniards, and were steadily repulsed.

At the ninth, the outer wall was carried, and the Spaniards shouting “Santiago” poured over it, bearing back all resistance.  An Italian Knight of the Sepulchre, Cesar Guidiccioni by name, and a Spanish ensign, one Alphonao de Mesa, with his colours in one hand and a ladder in the other, each claimed the honour of having first mounted the breach.  Both being deemed equally worthy of reward, Parma, after the city had been won, took from his own cap a sprig of jewels and a golden wheat-ear ornamented with a gem, which he had himself worn in place of a plume, and thus presented each with a brilliant token of his regard.  The wall was then strengthened