Parma, overjoyed at his victory, embraced Capizucca before the whole army, with warm expressions of admiration for his conduct.  Both the Italian colonel and his Spanish rival Aquila were earnestly recommended to Philip for reward and promotion.  The wounded Toralva was carried to Alexander’s own quarters, and placed in Alexander’s own bed, where he remained till his recovery, and was then presented—­a distinction which he much valued—­with the armour which the Prince had worn on the day of the battle.  Parma himself, so soon as the action was concluded, went with his chief officers straight from the field to the little village-church of Stabroek, where he fell upon his knees and offered up fervent thanks for his victory.  He next set about repairing the ruptured dyke, damaged in many places but not hopelessly ruined, and for this purpose the bodies of the rebels, among other materials, were cast by hundreds into the ditches which their own hands had dug.

Thus ended the eight hours’ fight on the Kowenstyn.  “The feast lasted from seven to eight hours,” said Parma, “with the most brave obstinacy on both sides that has been seen for many a long day.”  A thousand royalists were killed and twice as many patriots, and the issue of the conflict was most uncertain up to the very last.

“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