ce of two personages, seated at a table covered with books and
papers. One was in military undress, with an air about him of habitual
command, a fair-complexioned man of middle age, inclining to baldness,
rather stout, with a large blue eye, regular features, and a
mouse-coloured beard. The other was in the velvet cloak and grave
habiliments of a civil functionary, apparently sixty years of age, with a
massive features, and a shaggy beard. The soldier was Maurice of Nassau,
the statesman was John of Olden-Barneveld.

Both rose as the friar entered, and greeted him with cordiality.

"But," said the prince, "how did you dare to enter the Hague, relying
only on the word of a Beggar?"

"Who would not confide," replied Neyen, "in the word of so exalted, so
respectable a Beggar as you, O most excellent prince?"

With these facetious words began the negotiations through which an
earnest attempt was at last to be made for terminating a seemingly
immortal war. The conversation, thus begun, rolled amicably and
informally along. The monk produced letters from the archdukes, in which,
as he stated, the truly royal soul of the writers shone conspicuously
forth. "Without a thought for their own advantage," he observed, "and
moved only by a contemplation of the tears shed by so many thousands of
beings reduced to extreme misery, their Highnesses, although they were
such exalted princes, cared nothing for what would be said by the kings
of Europe and all the potentates of the universe about their excessive
indulgence."

"What indulgence do you speak of?" asked the stadholder.

"Does that seem a trifling indulgence," replied John Neyen, "that they
are willing to abandon the right which they inherited from their
ancestors over these provinces, to allow it so easily to slip from their
fingers, to declare these people to be free, over whom, as their subjects
refusing the yoke, they have carried on war so long?"

"It is our right hands that have gained this liberty," said Maurice, "not
the archdukes that have granted it. It has been acquired by our treasure,
poured forth how freely! by the price of our blood, by so many thousands
of souls sent to their account. Alas, how dear a price have we paid for
it! All the potentates of Christendom, save the King of Spain alone, with
his relatives the archdukes, have assented to our independence. In
treating for peace we ask no gift of freedom from the archdukes. We claim
to be regarded by them