nder
his fingers. Smiling bitterly, he wiped them from the page with the back
of his hand.

"Dead, dead," he murmured, and the image of the gallant youth, the clever
mediator, the favorite of William of Orange, rose before his mind--he
asked himself how this fresh stroke of fate would affect the Prince, whom
he revered as the providence of the country, admired and loved as the
wisest, most unselfish of men.

William's affliction grieved him as sorely as if it had fallen upon
himself, and the blow that had struck the cause of freedom was a heavy
one, perhaps never to be overcome.

Yet he only granted himself a short time to indulge in grief, for the
point in question now was to summon all the nation's strength to repair
what was lost, avert by vigorous acts the serious consequences which
threatened to follow Louis's defeat, and devise fresh means to carry on
the war.

He paced up and down the room with frowning brow, inventing measures and
pondering over plans. His wife had opened the door, and now remained
standing on the threshold, but he did not notice her until she called his
name and advanced towards him.

In her hand she held part of the flowers the boy had brought, another
portion adorned her bosom.

"Take it," she said, offering him the bouquet. "Adrian, dear boy,
gathered them, and you surely know what they mean."

He willingly took the messengers of spring, raised them to his face, drew
Maria to his breast, pressed a long kiss upon her brow, and then said
gloomily:

"So this is the celebration of the first anniversary of our wedding-day.
Poor wife! The Glipper was not so far wrong; perhaps it would have been
wiser and better for me not to bind your fate to mine."

"How can such thoughts enter your mind, Peter!" she exclaimed
reproachfully.

"Louis of Nassau has fallen," he murmured in a hollow tone, "his army is
scattered."

"Oh-oh!" cried Maria, clasping her hands in horror, but he continued:

"It was our last body of troops. The coffers are empty, and where we are
to obtain new means, and what will happen now--this, this--Leave me,
Maria, I beg you. If we don't profit by the time now, if we don't find
the right paths now, we shall not, cannot prosper."

With these words he threw the bouquet on the table, hastily seized a
paper, looked into it, and, without glancing at her, waved his right
hand.

The young wife's heart had been full, wide open, when she entered the
room. She had expected so