His mother and Barbara had been anxious, but he told them about his father and in what manner he had put a stop to the confusion.

While talking, the rattle of musketry was heard in the distance, awaking such excitement in Adrian’s mind, that he wanted to rush out again; but his mother stopped him and he was obliged to mount the stairs to his room.  He did not go to sleep, but climbed to the upper loft in the gable of the rear building and gazed through the window, to which the bales of leather were raised by pulleys, towards the east, from whence the sound of firing was still audible.  But he saw nothing except the dawn and light clouds of smoke, that assumed a rosy hue as they floated upward.  As nothing new appeared, his eyes closed, and he fell asleep beside the open window where he dreamed of a bloody battle and the English riders.  His slumber was so sound, that he did not hear the rumble of wheels in the quiet courtyard below him.  The carts from which the noise proceeded belonged to traders from neighboring cities, who preferred to leave their goods in the threatened town, rather than carry them towards the advancing Spaniards.  Meister Peter had allowed some of them to store their property with him.  The carts were obliged to pass through the back-building with the workshops, and the goods liable to be injured by the weather, were to be placed in the course of the day in the large garrets of his house.

The burgomaster’s wife had gone to Henrica at midnight to soothe her fears, but the sick girl seemed free from all anxiety, and when she heard that the Spaniards were on the march, her eyes sparkled joyously.  Maria noticed it and turned away from her guest, but she repressed the harsh words that sprang to her lips, wished her good-night, and left the chamber.

Henrica gazed thoughtfully after her and then rose, for no sleep was possible that night.  The alarm-bell in the Tower of Pancratius rang incessantly, and more than once doors opened, voices and shots were heard.  Many tones and noises, whose origin and nature she could not understand, reached her ears, and when morning dawned, the court-yard under her windows, usually so quiet, was full of bustle.  Carts rattled, loud tones mingled excitedly, and a deep masculine voice seemed to be directing what was going on.  Her curiosity and restlessness increased every moment.  She listened so intently that her head began to ache again, but could hear only separate words and those very indistinctly.  Had the city been surrendered to the Spaniards, had King Philip’s soldiers found quarters in the burgomaster’s house?  Her blood boiled indignantly, when she thought of the Castilians’ triumph and the humiliation of her native land, but soon her former joyous excitement again filled her mind, as she beheld in imagination art re-enter the bare walls of the Leyden churches, now robbed of all their ornaments, chanting processions move through the streets, and priests in rich robes