excited.

"Everything is the fault of the Advocate," he cried.

"If Barneveld were dead," replied Grotius, "all the rest of us would
still deem ourselves bound to maintain the laws. People seem to despise
Holland and to wish to subject it to the other provinces."

"On the contrary," cried the Prince, "it is the Advocate who wishes to
make Holland the States-General."

Maurice was tired of argument. There had been much ale-house talk some
three months before by a certain blusterous gentleman called van Ostrum
about the necessity of keeping the Stadholder in check. "If the Prince
should undertake," said this pot-valiant hero, "to attack any of the
cities of Utrecht or Holland with the hard hand, it is settled to station
8000 or 10,000 soldiers in convenient places. Then we shall say to the
Prince, if you don't leave us alone, we shall make an arrangement with
the Archduke of Austria and resume obedience to him. We can make such a
treaty with him as will give us religious freedom and save us from
tyranny of any kind. I don't say this for myself, but have heard it on
good authority from very eminent persons."

This talk had floated through the air to the Stadholder.

What evidence could be more conclusive of a deep design on the part of
Barneveld to sell the Republic to the Archduke and drive Maurice into
exile? Had not Esquire van Ostrum solemnly declared it at a tavern table?
And although he had mentioned no names, could the "eminent personages"
thus cited at second hand be anybody but the Advocate?

Three nights after his last conference with the Hollanders, Maurice
quietly ordered a force of regular troops in Utrecht to be under arms at
half past three o'clock next morning. About 1000 infantry, including
companies of Ernest of Nassau's command at Arnhem and of Brederode's from
Vianen, besides a portion of the regular garrison of the place, had
accordingly been assembled without beat of drum, before half past three
in the morning, and were now drawn up on the market-place or Neu. At
break of day the Prince himself appeared on horseback surrounded by his
staff on the Neu or Neude, a large, long, irregular square into which the
seven or eight principal streets and thoroughfares of the town emptied
themselves. It was adorned by public buildings and other handsome
edifices, and the tall steeple of St. Martin's with its beautiful
open-work spire, lighted with the first rays of the midsummer sun, looked
tranquilly down