eet, past the blue stone, and the eldest
said to his companions:

"They boast and shout and seem large to themselves now, but we shall see
that things will soon be very different."

"May God avert the worst!" replied the other, "but the Spaniards will
surely advance again, and I know many in my ward who won't vote for
resistance this time."

"They are right, a thousand times right. Requesens is not Alva, and if we
voluntarily seek the king's pardon--"

"There would be no blood shed and everything would take the best course."

"I have more love for Holland than for Spain," said the third. "But,
after Mook-Heath, resistance is a thing of the past. Orange may be an
excellent prince, but the shirt is closer than the coat."

"And in fact we risk our lives and fortunes merely for him."

"My wife said so yesterday."

"He'll be the last man to help trade. Believe me, many think as we do, if
it were not so, the Beggars' Song would have sounded louder."

"There will always be five fools to three wise men," said the older
citizen. "I took good care not to split my mouth."

"And after all, what great thing is there behind this outcry for freedom?
Alva burnt the Bible-readers, De la Marck hangs the priests. My wife
likes to go to Mass, but always does so secretly, as if she were
committing a crime."

"We, too, cling to the good old faith."

"Never mind faith," said the third. We are Calvinists, but I take no
pleasure in throwing my pennies into Orange's maw, nor can it gratify me
to again tear up the poles before the Cow-gate, ere the wind dries the
yarn."

"Only let us hold together," advised the older man. "People don't express
their real opinions, and any poor ragged devil might play the hero. But I
tell you there will be sensible men enough in every ward, every guild,
nay, even in the council, and among the burgomasters."

"Hush," whispered the second citizen, "there comes Van der Werff with the
city clerk and young Van der Does; they are the worst of all."

The three persons named came down the broad street, talking eagerly
together, but in low tones.

"My uncle is right, Meister Peter," said Jan Van der Does, the same tall
young noble, who, on the morning of that day, had sent Nicolas Van
Wibisma home with a kindly warning. "It's no use, you must seek the
Prince and consult with him."

"I suppose I must," replied the burgomaster. "I'll go to-morrow morning."

"Not to-morrow," replied Van Hout. "The Prince