“Louis of Nassau was close upon the Spaniards on the 14th, and our cause is doing well—­”

“It certainly did not fare ill at first.”

“The messenger, who yesterday evening—­”

“Ours came this morning.”

“This morning, you say?  And what more—­”

“The Prince’s army was defeated and utterly destroyed on Mook Heath.  Louis of Nassau himself was slain.”

Van der Werff pressed his fingers firmly on the wood of the writing-table.  The fresh color of his cheeks and lips had yielded to a livid pallor, and his mouth quivered painfully as he asked in a low, hollow tone, “Louis dead, really dead?”

“Dead,” replied the baron firmly, though sorrowfully.  “We were enemies, but Louis was a noble youth.  I mourn him with you.”

“Dead, William’s favorite dead!” murmured the burgomaster as if in a dream.  Then, controlling himself by a violent effort, he said, firmly: 

“Pardon me, noble sir.  Time is flying.  I must go to the town-hall.”

“And spite of my message, you will continue to uphold rebellion?”

“Yes, my lord, as surely as I am a Hollander.”

“Do you remember the fate of Haarlem?”

“I remember her citizens’ resistance, and the rescued Alkmaar.”

“Man, man!” cried the baron.  “By all that sacred, I implore you to be circumspect.”

“Enough, baron, I must go to the town-hall.”

“No, only this one more word, this one word.  I know you upbraid us as ‘Glippers,’ deserters, but as truly as I hope for God’s mercy, you misjudge us.  No, Herr Peter, no, I am no traitor!  I love this country and this brave, industrious people with the same love as yourself, for its blood flows in my veins also.  I signed the compromise.  Here I stand, sir.  Look at me.  Do I look like a Judas?  Do I look like a Spaniard?  Can you blame me for faithfully keeping the oath I gave the king?  When did we of the Netherlands ever trifle with vows?  You, the friend of Orange, have just declared that you did not grudge any man the faith to which he clung, and I will not doubt it.  Well, I hold firmly to the old church, I am a Catholic and shall remain one.  But in this hour I frankly confess, that I hate the inquisition and Alva’s bloody deeds as much as you do.  They have as little connection with our religion as iconoclasm had with yours Like you, I love the freedom of our home.  To win it back is my endeavor, as well as yours.  But how can a little handful like us ever succeed in finally resisting the most powerful kingdom in the world?  Though we conquer once, twice, thrice, two stronger armies will follow each defeated one.  We shall accomplish nothing by force, but may do much by wise concession and prudent deeds.  Philip’s coffers are empty; he needs his armies too in other countries.  Well then, let us profit by his difficulties, and force him to ratify some lost liberty for every revolted city that returns to him.  Let us buy from his hands, with what remains of our old wealth, the rights he has wrested from us while fighting against the rebels.  You will find open hands with me and those who share my opinions.  Your voice weighs heavily in the council of this city.  You are the friend of Orange, and if you could induce him—­”