l in this country. The Netherlanders are
human beings too."

"They are rebels, recreant heretics."

"Take care, or you will revile your own father. His faith has been
shaken. A preacher, whom he met on his flight here, in some tavern, led
him astray by inducing him to read the bible. Many things the Church
condemns are sacred to him. He thinks the Netherlanders a free, noble
nation. Your King Philip he considers a tyrant, oppressor, and ruthless
destroyer. You who have served him and Alba--are in his eyes; but I will
not wound you...."

"What are we, I will hear."

"No, no, it would do no good. In short, to Adam the Spanish army is a
bloody pest, nothing more."

"There never were braver soldiers."

"Very true; but every defeat, all the blood you have shed, has angered
him and this nation, and wrath, which daily receives fresh food and to
which men become accustomed, at last turns to hate. All great crimes
committed in this war are associated with Alba's name, many smaller ones
with yours, and so your father...."

"Then we will teach him a better opinion! I return to him an honest
soldier, the commander of thousands of men! To see him once more, only
to see him! A son remains a son! I learned that from my mother. We were
rivals and enemies, when I met her! And then, then--alas, that is all
over! Now I wish to find in my father what I have lost; will you go to
the smithy with me?"

"No, Ulrich, no. I have said everything to your father that can be urged
in your defence, but he is so devoured with rage...."

"Santiago!" exclaimed the Eletto, bursting into sudden fury, "I need no
advocate! If the old man knows what share I have taken in this war, so
much the better. I'll fill up the gaps myself. I have been wherever the
fight raged hottest! 'Sdeath! that is my pride! I am no longer a boy and
have fought my way through life without father or mother. What I am,
I have made myself, and can defend with honor, even to the old man.
He carries heavy guns, I know; but I am not accustomed to shoot with
feather balls!"

"Ulrich, Ulrich! He is an old man, and your father!"

"I will remember that, as soon as he calls me his son."

One of the count's servants showed Ulrich the way to the smith's house.

Adam had entirely given up the business of horseshoeing, for nothing
was to be seen in the ground floor of the high, narrow house, except
the large door, and a window on each side. Behind the closed one at
the right were