at will, come! A brave man from your midst has said
to-day: 'We will not yield, so long as an arm is left on our bodies, to
raise food to our lips and wield a sword!' If we all think thus, twenty
Spanish armies will find their graves before these walls. On Leyden
depends the liberty of Holland. If we waver and fall, to escape the
misery that only threatens us to-day, but will pitilessly oppress and
torture us later, our children will say: 'The men of Leyden were blind
cowards; it is their fault, that the name of Hollander is held in no
higher esteem, than that of a useless slave.' But if we faithfully hold
out and resist the gloomy foreigner to the last man and the last mouthful
of bread, they will remember us with tears and joyfully exclaim: 'We owe
it to them, that our noble, industrious, happy people is permitted to
place itself proudly beside the other nations, and need no longer
tolerate the miserable cuckoo in its own nest. Let whoever loves honor,
whoever is no degenerate wretch, that betrays his parents' house, whoever
would rather be a free man than a slave, ere raising his hand before God
to take the oath, exclaim with me: 'Long live our shield, Orange, and a
free Holland!'"

"They shall live!" shouted hundreds of powerful voices, five, ten, twenty
times. The gunner discharged the cannon planted near the target, drums
beat, one flourish of trumpets after another filled the air, the ringing
of bells from all the towers of the city echoed over the heads of the
enthusiastic crowd, and the cheering continued until the commissioner
waved his hand and the swearing fealty began.

The guilds and the armed defenders of the city pressed forward in bands
under the linden. Now impetuously, now with dignified calmness, now with
devout exaltation, hands were raised to take the oath, and whoever
clasped hands did so with fervent warmth. Two hours elapsed before all
had sworn loyalty, and many a group that had passed under the linden
together, warmly grasped each other's hands on the grounds in pledge of a
second silent vow.

Nicolas Van Wibisma sat silently, with his letter in his lap, beside a
target opposite the spot where the oath was taken, but sorrowful, bitter
emotions were seething in his breast. How gladly he would have wept aloud
and torn his father's letter! How gladly, when he saw the venerable Herr
Van Montfort come hand in hand with the grey-haired Van der Does to be
sworn, he would have rushed to their side t