pter. After that ominous
event, Montigny became most anxious to effect his retreat from Spain. He
had been separated more than a year from his few months' bride. He was
not imprisoned, but he felt himself under the most rigid although secret
inspection. It was utterly impossible for him to obtain leave to return,
or to take his departure without permission. On one occasion, having left
the city accidentally for a ride on horseback to an adjoining village, he
found himself surrounded by an unexpected escort of forty troopers.
Still, however, the King retained a smiling mien. To Montigny's repeated
and urgent requests for dismissal, Philip graciously urged his desire for
a continuance of his visit. He was requested to remain in order to
accompany his sovereign upon that journey to the Netherlands which would
not be much longer delayed. In his impatience anything seemed preferable
to the state of suspense in which he was made to linger. He eagerly
offered, if he were accused or suspected of crime, to surrender himself
to imprisonment if he only could be brought to trial. Soon after Alva's
arrival in the Netherlands, the first part of this offer was accepted. No
sooner were the arrests of Egmont and Horn known in Madrid, than Montigny
was deprived of his liberty, and closely confined in the alcazar of
Segovia. Here he remained imprisoned for eight or nine months in a high
tower, with no attendant save a young page, Arthur de Munter, who had
accompanied him from the Netherlands. Eight men-at-arms were expressly
employed to watch over him and to prevent his escape.

One day towards the middle of July, 1568, a band of pilgrims, some of
them in Flemish attire, went through the streets of Segovia. They were
chanting, as was customary on such occasions, a low, monotonous song, in
which Montigny, who happened to be listening, suddenly recognized the
language of his fatherland. His surprise was still greater when, upon
paying closer attention, he distinguished the terrible meaning of the
song. The pretended pilgrims, having no other means of communication with
the prisoner, were singing for his information the tragic fates of his
brother, Count Horn, and of his friend, Count Egmont. Mingled with the
strain were warnings of his own approaching doom; if he were not able to
effect his escape before it should be too late. Thus by this friendly
masquerade did Montigny learn the fate of his brother, which otherwise,
in that land of terrib