t myself.
Although order was restored in Antwerp, the city was full of mourning,
especially among the lower classes, so many had lost relatives in the
late fight. The person for whom I could not help feeling the most
compassion was the young widow of the brave Tholouse. For some days she
would not believe that he was among the slain, until one of the men who,
though desperately wounded, had escaped death, was brought before her.
He described how the young captain, though surrounded by foes, fought to
the last, till he was struck down and cut to pieces. After the enemy
had retired, we went out to the scene of the conflict. I had never
witnessed so sad and horrible a sight. The ground in the camp was
strewn with dead bodies. There was one pile of slain larger than the
rest. Within it was found the hilt of the broken sword of the young
hero, his helmet cleft in twain, and a corpse, covered with a hundred
wounds, which those who knew him best declared was his. This seemed but
a disastrous commencement of an attempt to establish liberty. Many
abandoned all hope of their country's freedom. But bolder spirits hoped
against hope; among them, even at that time, was William of Orange, or
the Silent William, as he was called. He could speak, however, as I
have already described. He gained the name, not so much because he was
silent, as far as words were concerned, but because he kept his more
important and deeper thoughts hidden in his own bosom.

It became known at this time that the Duke of Alva, the most celebrated
general of his day, was marching with a Spanish army towards the
Netherlands; and by the middle of August he reached Thionville, on the
Luxembourg frontier.

Count Egmont and several other nobles rode forth to meet the Duke.
Though at first Alva treated Egmont somewhat coldly, in a short time he
appeared to be on the most friendly terms with him, and the two were
seen riding side by side at the head of the forces. Of course the
Duchess Margaret was very indignant at the appearance of Alva, who had
come to supersede her. She at length consented to receive him without
any of his attendants. But when he appeared in the courtyard with his
body-guard, the archers of the Regent's household showed a disposition
to prevent their entrance, and a scene of bloodshed seemed on the point
of being enacted. At length he was allowed to pass, and the Duchess
received him standing in the centre of her reception-room w