“For,” continued Damianus more eagerly, “for you see, before the Spaniards came into the country, they were good Catholics here and led devout lives, pleasing in the sight of God.  Why should it not be so again?  The most High has separated men into nations, because He wills, that they should lead their own lives and shape them for their salvation and His honor; but not to give the stronger nation the right to torture and oppress another.  Suppose your father went out to walk and a Spanish grandee should jump on his shoulders and make him taste whip and spur, as if he were a horse.  It would be bad for the Castilian.  Now substitute Holland for Herr Matanesse, and Spain for the grandee, and you will know what I mean.  There is nothing left for us to do, except cast off the oppressor.  Our holy church will sustain no loss.  God appointed it, and it will stand whether King Philip or another rules.  Now you know my opinion.  Do I err or not, in thinking that the name of Glipper no longer pleases you, dear Junker?”

“No, Father Damianus!—­You are right, a thousand times right.  It is no sin, to desire a free Holland.”

“Who told you it was one?”

“Canon Bermont and our chaplain.”

“Then we are of a different opinion concerning this temporal matter.  Give to God the things that are God’s, and remain where the Lord placed you.  When your beard grows, if you wish to fight for the liberty of Holland, do so confidently.  That is a sin for which I will gladly grant you absolution.”

Henrica was greatly delighted to see the fresh, happy-looking youth again.  Nicolas was obliged to tell her about her father and his, and inform her how he had come to Leyden.  When she heard that he intended to return in an hour, a bright idea entered her mind, which was wholly engrossed by Belotti’s mission.  She told Nicolas what she meant to do, and begged him to take the steward through the Spanish army to the Hague.  The Junker was not only ready to fulfil her request, but promised that, if the old man wanted to return, he would apprize her of it in some way.

At the end of an hour she bade the boy farewell, and when again walking towards the Achtergracht with Herr von Warmond, he asked joyously: 

“How shall I get to the Beggars?”

“You?” asked the captain in astonishment.

“Yes, I!” replied the Junker eagerly.  “I shall soon be seventeen, and when I am—­Wait, just wait—­you’ll hear of me yet.”

“Right, Nicolas, right,” replied the other.  “Let us be Holland nobles and noble Hollanders.”

Three hours later, Junker Matanesse Van Wibisma rode into the Hague with Belotti, whom he had loved from childhood.  He brought his father nothing but a carefully-folded and sealed letter, which Janus Dousa, with a mischievous smile, had given him on behalf of the citizens of Leyden for General Valdez, and which contained, daintily inscribed on a large sheet, the following lines from Dionysius Cato: