“Merciful God!  Send the relief.  If it were only that!”

The two women waited in great suspense.  At last Wilhelm’s brother Ulrich returned, saying that the messengers sent to Delft had succeeded in passing the enemy’s ranks and brought with them a letter from the estates, which the city-clerk had read from the window of the town-hall.  The representatives of the country praised the conduct and endurance of the citizens, and informed them that, in spite of the damage done to thousands of people, the dykes would be cut.

In fact, the water was already pouring over the land, and the messengers had seen the vessels appointed to bring relief.  The country surrounding Leyden must soon be inundated, and the rising flood would force the Spanish army to retreat, “Better a drowned land than a lost land,” was a saying that had been decisive in the execution of the violent measure proposed, and those who had risked so much might be expected to shrink from no sacrifice to save Leyden.

The two women joyously shook hands with each other; the bells continued to ring merrily, and report after report of cannon made the window-panes rattle.

As twilight approached, Maria turned her steps towards home.  It was long since her heart had been so light.  The black tablets on the houses containing cases of plague did not look so sorrowful to-day, the emaciated faces seemed less pitiful than usual, for to them also help was approaching.  The faithful endurance was to be rewarded, the cause of freedom would conquer.

She entered the “broad street” with winged steps.  Thousands of citizens had flocked into it to see, hear, and learn what might be hoped, or what still gave cause for fear.  Musicians had been stationed at the corners to play lively airs; the Beggars’ song mingled with the pipes and trumpets and the cheers of enthusiastic men.  But there were also throngs of well-dressed citizens and women, who loudly and fearlessly mocked at the gay music and exulting simpletons, who allowed themselves to be cajoled by empty promises.  Where was the relief?  What could the handful of Beggars—­which at the utmost were all the troops the Prince could bring—­do against King Philip’s terrible military power, that surrounded Leyden?  And the inundation of the country?  The ground on which the city stood was too high for the water ever to reach it.  The peasants had been injured, without benefitting the citizens.  There was only one means of escape—­to trust to the King’s mercy.

“What is liberty to us?” shouted a brewer, who, like all his companions in business, had long since been deprived of his grain and forbidden to manufacture any fresh beer.  “What will liberty be to us, when we’re cold in death?  Let whoever means well go the town-hall, and demand a surrender before it is too late.”

“Surrender!  The mercy of the King!” shouted the citizens.

“Life comes first, and then the question whether it shall be free or under Spanish rule, Calvanistical or Popish!” screamed a master-weaver.  “I’ll march to the town-hall with you.”