even after his nine months’ imprisonment, in a fatal termination to the difficulties in which he was involved.  He was now startled both at the sudden condemnation which had followed his lingering trial, and at the speed with which his death was to fulfil the sentence.  He asked the Bishop, with many expressions of amazement, whether pardon was impossible; whether delay at least might not be obtained?  The prelate answered by a faithful narrative of the conversation which had just occurred between Alva and himself.  Egmont, thus convinced of his inevitable doom, then observed to his companion, with exquisite courtesy, that, since he was to die, he rendered thanks both to God and to the Duke that his last moments were to be consoled by so excellent a father confessor.

Afterwards, with a natural burst of indignation, he exclaimed that it was indeed a cruel and unjust sentence.  He protested that he had never in his whole life wronged his Majesty; certainly never so deeply as to deserve such a punishment.  All that he had done had been with loyal intentions.  The King’s true interest had been his constant aim.  Nevertheless, if he had fallen into error, he prayed to God that his death might wipe away his misdeeds, and that his name might not be dishonored, nor his children brought to shame.  His beloved wife and innocent children were to endure misery enough by his death and the confiscation of his estates.  It was at least due to his long services that they should be spared further suffering.  He then asked his father confessor what advice he had to give touching his present conduct.  The Bishop replied by an exhortation, that he should turn himself to God; that he should withdraw his thoughts entirely from all earthly interests, and prepare himself for the world beyond the grave.  He accepted the advice, and kneeling before the Bishop, confessed himself.  He then asked to receive the sacrament, which the Bishop administered, after the customary mass.  Egmont asked what prayer would be most appropriate at the hour of execution.  His confessor replied that there was none more befitting than the one which Jesus had taught his disciples—­Our Father, which art in heaven.

Some conversation ensued, in which the Count again expressed his gratitude that his parting soul had been soothed by these pious and friendly offices.  By a revulsion of feeling, he then bewailed again the sad fate of his wife and of his young children.  The Bishop entreated him anew to withdraw his mind from such harrowing reflections, and to give himself entirely to God.  Overwhelmed with grief, Egmont exclaimed with natural and simple pathos—­“Alas! how miserable and frail is our nature, that, when we should think of God only, we are unable to shut out the images of wife and children.”

Recovering from his emotion, and having yet much time, he sat down and wrote with perfect self-possession two letters, one to Philip and one to Alva.  The celebrated letter to the King was as follows: