soldiers appeared who
were to conduct him to the scaffold. They brought with them cords, as
usual, to bind the prisoner's hands. But Egmont remonstrated, and
showed that he had himself cut off the collar of his doublet and
shirt, in order to facilitate the stroke of the executioner. This he
did to convince them that he meditated no resistance; and on his
promising that he would attempt none, they consented to his remaining
with his hands unbound.

Egmont was drest in a crimson damask robe, over which was a Spanish
mantle fringed with gold. His breeches were of black silk, and his
hat, of the same material, was garnished with white and sable plumes.
In his hand, which, as we have seen, remained free, he held a white
handkerchief. On his way to the place of execution he was accompanied
by Julian de Romero, _maitre de camp_, by the captain, Salinas, who
had charge of the fortress of Ghent, and by the bishop of Ypres. As
the procession moved slowly forward, the count repeated some portion
of the fifty-first Psalm--"Have mercy on me, O God!"--in which the
good prelate joined with him. In the center of the square, on the spot
where so much of the best blood of the Netherlands had been shed,
stood the scaffold, covered with black cloth. On it were two velvet
cushions with a small table, shrouded likewise in black, and
supporting a silver crucifix. At the corners of the platform were two
poles, pointed at the end with steel, intimating the purpose for which
they were intended.

In front of the scaffold was the provost of the court, mounted on
horseback, and bearing the red wand of office in his hand. The
executioner remained, as usual, below the platform, screened from
view, that he might not, by his presence before it was necessary,
outrage the feelings of the prisoners. The troops, who had been under
arms all night, were drawn up around in order of battle; and strong
bodies of arquebusiers were posted in the great avenues which led to
the square. The space left open by the soldiery was speedily occupied
by a crowd of eager spectators. Others thronged the roofs and windows
of the buildings that surrounded the market-place, some of which,
still standing at the present day, show, by their quaint and venerable
architecture, that they must have looked down on the tragic scene we
are now depicting.

It was indeed a gloomy day for Brussels--so long the residence of the
two nobles, where their forms were as familiar and where the