inted to bring relief. The country surrounding
Leyden must soon be inundated, and the rising flood would force the
Spanish army to retreat, "Better a drowned land than a lost land," was
a saying that had been decisive in the execution of the violent measure
proposed, and those who had risked so much might be expected to shrink
from no sacrifice to save Leyden.

The two women joyously shook hands with each other; the bells continued
to ring merrily, and report after report of cannon made the window-panes
rattle.

As twilight approached, Maria turned her steps towards home. It was
long since her heart had been so light. The black tablets on the
houses containing cases of plague did not look so sorrowful to-day, the
emaciated faces seemed less pitiful than usual, for to them also help
was approaching. The faithful endurance was to be rewarded, the cause of
freedom would conquer.

She entered the "broad street" with winged steps. Thousands of citizens
had flocked into it to see, hear, and learn what might be hoped, or what
still gave cause for fear. Musicians had been stationed at the corners
to play lively airs; the Beggars' song mingled with the pipes and
trumpets and the cheers of enthusiastic men. But there were also throngs
of well-dressed citizens and women, who loudly and fearlessly mocked
at the gay music and exulting simpletons, who allowed themselves to be
cajoled by empty promises. Where was the relief? What could the handful
of Beggars--which at the utmost were all the troops the Prince could
bring--do against King Philip's terrible military power, that surrounded
Leyden? And the inundation of the country? The ground on which the city
stood was too high for the water ever to reach it. The peasants had been
injured, without benefitting the citizens. There was only one means of
escape--to trust to the King's mercy.

"What is liberty to us?" shouted a brewer, who, like all his companions
in business, had long since been deprived of his grain and forbidden to
manufacture any fresh beer. "What will liberty be to us, when we're cold
in death? Let whoever means well go the town-hall and demand a surrender
before it is too late."

"Surrender! The mercy of the King!" shouted the citizens.

"Life comes first, and then the question whether it shall be free or
under Spanish rule, Calvanistical or Popish!" screamed a master-weaver.
"I'll march to the town-hall with you."

"You are right, good people," said Burgomaste