ve the city during the whole day, in
order that unnecessary suspicion might be prevented.

This pledge the Duke proceeded to violate almost as soon as made. Orange
returned with confidence to his own house, which was close to the
citadel, and therefore far removed from the proposed point of attack, but
he had hardly arrived there when he received a visit from the Duke's
private secretary, Quinsay, who invited him to accompany his Highness on
a visit to the camp. Orange declined the request, and sent an earnest
prayer to the Duke not to leave the city that morning. The Duke dined as
usual at noon. While at dinner he received a letter; was observed to turn
pale on reading it, and to conceal it hastily in a muff which he wore on
his left arm. The repast finished, the Duke ordered his horse. The animal
was restive, and so, strenuously resisted being mounted that, although it
was his usual charger; it was exchanged for another. This second horse
started in such a flurry that the Duke lost his cloak, and almost his
seat. He maintained his self-possession, however, and placing himself at
the head of his bodyguard and some troopers, numbering in all three
hundred mounted men, rode out of the palace-yard towards the Kipdorp
gate.

This portal opened on the road towards Borgerhout, where his troops were
stationed, and at the present day bears the name of that village: It is
on the side of the city farthest removed from and exactly opposite the
river. The town was very quiet, the streets almost deserted; for it was
one o'clock, the universal dinner-hour, and all suspicion had been
disarmed by the energetic protestations of the Duke. The guard at the
gate looked listlessly upon the cavalcade as it approached, but as soon
as Anjou had crossed the first drawbridge, he rose in his stirrups and
waved his hand. "There is your city, my lads," said he to the troopers
behind him; "go and take possession of it!"

At the same time he set spurs to his horse, and galloped off towards the
camp at Borgerhout. Instantly afterwards; a gentleman of his suite, Count
Bochepot, affected to have broken his leg through the plunging of his
horse, a circumstance by which he had been violently pressed, against the
wall as he entered the gate. Kaiser, the commanding officer at the
guard-house, stepped kindly forward to render him assistance, and his
reward was a desperate thrust from the Frenchman's rapier. As he wore a
steel cuirass, he fortunately escap