, returned with a protest that they were not
to be held responsible for the termination of the proceedings, and that
they washed their hands of the bloodshed which might follow the rupture.
Upon reading this document; Don John fell into a blazing passion. He
vehemently denounced the deputies as traitors. He swore that men who came
to him thus prepared with ready-made protests in their pockets, were
rebels from the commencement, and had never intended any agreement with
him. His language and gestures expressed unbounded fury. He was weary of
their ways, he said. They had better look to themselves, for the King
would never leave their rebellion unpunished. He was ready to draw the
sword at once--not his own, but his Majesty's, and they might be sure
that the war which they were thus provoking, should be the fiercest ever,
waged. More abusive language in this strain was uttered, but it was not
heard with lamb-like submission. The day had gone by when the deputies of
the states-general were wont to quail before the wrath of vicarious
royalty. The fiery words of Don John were not oil to troubled water, but
a match to a mine. The passions of the deputies exploded in their turn,
and from hot words they had nearly come to hard blows. One of the
deputies replied with so much boldness and vehemence that the Governor,
seizing a heavy silver bell which stood on the table, was about to hurl
it at the offender's head, when an energetic and providential
interference on the part of the imperial envoys, prevented the unseemly
catastrophe.

The day thus unprofitably spent, had now come to its close, and the
deputies left the presence of Don John with tempers as inflamed as his
own. They were, therefore, somewhat surprised at being awakened in their
beds, after midnight, by a certain Father Trigoso, who came to them with
a conciliatory message from the Governor. While they were still rubbing
their eyes with sleep and astonishment, the Duke of Aerschot, the Bishop
of Liege, and several councillors of state, entered the room. These
personages brought the news that Don John had at last consented to
maintain the Pacification of Ghent, as would appear by a note written in
his own hand, which was then delivered. The billet was eagerly read, but
unfortunately did not fulfil the anticipations which had been excited. "I
agree," said Don John, "to approve the peace made between the states and
the Prince of Orange, on condition that nothing therein m