who had
escaped the fight had reason to think themselves less fortunate than
those who had died with arms in their hands."

This was the lot of Maestricht on the 20th of October. It was
instinctively felt to be the precursor of fresh disasters. Vague,
incoherent, but widely disseminated rumors had long pointed to Antwerp
and its dangerous situation. The Spaniards, foiled in their views upon
Brussels, had recently avowed an intention of avenging themselves in the
commercial capital. They had waited long enough, and accumulated strength
enough. Such a trifling city as Alost could no longer content their
cupidity, but in Antwerp there was gold enough for the gathering. There
was reason for the fears of the inhabitants, for the greedy longing of
their enemy. Probably no city in Christendom could at that day vie with
Antwerp in wealth and splendor. Its merchants lived in regal pomp and
luxury. In its numerous, massive warehouses were the treasures of every
clime. Still serving as the main entrepot of the world's traffic, the
Brabantine capital was the centre of that commercial system which was
soon to be superseded by a larger international life. In the midst of the
miseries which had so long been raining upon the Netherlands, the stately
and egotistical city seemed to have taken stronger root and to flourish
more freshly than ever. It was not wonderful that its palaces and its
magazines, glittering with splendor and bursting with treasure, should
arouse the avidity of a reckless and famishing soldiery. Had not a
handful of warriors of their own race rifled the golden Indies? Had not
their fathers, few in number, strong in courage and discipline, revelled
in the plunder of a new world? Here were the Indies in a single city.
Here were gold and silver, pearls and diamonds, ready and portable; the
precious fruit dropping, ripened, from the bough. Was it to be tolerated
that base, pacific burghers should monopolize the treasure by which a
band of heroes might be enriched?

A sense of coming evil diffused itself through the atmosphere. The air
seemed lurid with the impending storm, for the situation was one of
peculiar horror. The wealthiest city in Christendom lay at the mercy of
the strongest fastness in the world; a castle which had been built to
curb, not to protect, the town. It was now inhabited by a band of
brigands, outlawed by government, strong in discipline, furious from
penury, reckless by habit, desperate in circums