be forthwith invented, as different as possible from his
in general effect, and that all the gentlemen present should
indiscriminately adopt it for their own menials. Thus would the people
whom the Cardinal wished to dazzle with his finery learn to estimate such
gauds at their true value. It was determined that something extremely
plain, and in the German fashion, should be selected. At the same time,
the company, now thoroughly inflamed with wine, and possessed by the
spirit of mockery, determined that a symbol should be added to the
livery, by which the universal contempt for Granvelle should be
expressed. The proposition was hailed with acclamation, but who should
invent the hieroglyphical costume? All were reckless and ready enough,
but ingenuity of device was required. At last it was determined to decide
the question by hazard. Amid shouts of hilarity, the dice were thrown.
Those men were staking their lives, perhaps, upon the issue, but the
reflection gave only a keener zest to the game. Egmont won. It was the
most fatal victory which he had ever achieved, a more deadly prize even
than the trophies of St. Quentin and Gravelingen.

In a few days afterwards, the retainers of the house of Egmont surprised
Brussels by making their appearance in a new livery. Doublet and hose of
the coarsest grey, and long hanging sleeves, without gold or silver lace,
and having but a single ornament, comprised the whole costume. An emblem
which seemed to resemble a monk's cowl, or a fool's cap and bells, was
embroidered upon each sleeve. The device pointed at the Cardinal, as did,
by contrast, the affected coarseness of the dress. There was no doubt as
to the meaning of the hood, but they who saw in the symbol more
resemblance to the jester's cap, recalled certain biting expressions
which Granvelle had been accustomed to use. He had been wont, in the days
of his greatest insolence, to speak of the most eminent nobles as zanies,
lunatics, and buffoons. The embroidered fool's cap was supposed to typify
the gibe, and to remind the arrogant priest that a Brutus, as in the
olden time, might be found lurking in the costume of the fool. However
witty or appropriate the invention, the livery had an immense success.
According to agreement, the nobles who had dined with the treasurer
ordered it for all their servants. Never did a new dress become so soon
the fashion. The unpopularity of the minister assisted the quaintness of
the device. The fo