It was then ten o’clock.  The preacher went downstairs and crossed the courtyard to the Stadholder’s apartments, where he at once gained admittance.

Maurice heard the message with tears in his eyes, assuring Walaeus that he felt deeply for the Advocate’s misfortunes.  He had always had much affection for him, he said, and had often warned him against his mistaken courses.  Two things, however, had always excited his indignation.  One was that Barneveld had accused him of aspiring to sovereignty.  The other that he had placed him in such danger at Utrecht.  Yet he forgave him all.  As regarded his sons, so long as they behaved themselves well they might rely on his favour.

As Walaeus was about to leave the apartment, the Prince called him back.

“Did he say anything of a pardon?” he asked, with some eagerness.

“My Lord,” answered the clergyman, “I cannot with truth say that I understood him to make any allusion to it.”

Walaeus returned immediately to the prison chamber and made his report of the interview.  He was unwilling however to state the particulars of the offence which Maurice declared himself to have taken at the acts of the Advocate.

But as the prisoner insisted upon knowing, the clergyman repeated the whole conversation.

“His Excellency has been deceived in regard to the Utrecht business,” said Barneveld, “especially as to one point.  But it is true that I had fear and apprehension that he aspired to the sovereignty or to more authority in the country.  Ever since the year 1600 I have felt this fear and have tried that these apprehensions might be rightly understood.”

While Walaeus had been absent, the Reverend Jean la Motte (or Lamotius) and another clergyman of the Hague had come to the prisoner’s apartment.  La Motte could not look upon the Advocate’s face without weeping, but the others were more collected.  Conversation now ensued among the four; the preachers wishing to turn the doomed statesman’s thought to the consolations of religion.

But it was characteristic of the old lawyer’s frame of mind that even now he looked at the tragical position in which he found himself from a constitutional and controversial point of view.  He was perfectly calm and undaunted at the awful fate so suddenly and unexpectedly opened before his eyes, but he was indignant at what he esteemed the ignorance, injustice, and stupidity of the sentence to be pronounced against him.

“I am ready enough to die,” he said to the three clergymen, “but I cannot comprehend why I am to die.  I have done nothing except in obedience to the laws and privileges of the land and according to my oath, honour, and conscience.”

“These judges,” he continued, “come in a time when other maxims prevail in the State than those of my day.  They have no right therefore to sit in judgment upon me.”

The clergymen replied that the twenty-four judges who had tried the case were no children and were conscientious men; that it was no small thing to condemn a man, and that they would have to answer it before the Supreme Judge of all.