was agreed he should have not only the
36,000 florins, but all the horses, arms, plate, furniture, and other
moveables in the city belonging to Schenk, that he could lay his hands
upon. Here were revenge and solid damages for the unforgotten assault and
battery--for Schenk's property alone made no inconsiderable fortune--and
accordingly the city, towards Midsummer, was surrendered to the Seigneur
d'Haultepenne. Moreover, the excellent Patton had another and a loftier
motive. He was in love. He had also a rival. The lady of his thoughts was
the widow of Pontus de Noyelle, Seigneur de Bours, who had once saved the
citadel of Antwerp, and afterwards sold that city and himself. His rival
was no other than the great Seigneur de Champagny, brother of Cardinal
Granvelle, eminent as soldier, diplomatist, and financier, but now
growing old, not in affluent circumstances, and much troubled with the
gout. Madame de Bours had, however, accepted his hand, and had fixed the
day for the wedding, when the Scotchman, thus suddenly enriched, renewed
a previously unsuccessful suit. The widow then, partially keeping her
promise, actually celebrated her nuptials on the appointed evening; but,
to the surprise of the Provinces, she became not the 'haulte et puissante
dame de Champagny,' but Mrs. Aristotle Patton.

For this last treason neither Leicester nor the English were responsible.
Patton was not only a Scot, but a follower of Hohenlo, as Leicester
loudly protested. Le Merchant was a Frenchman. But Deventer and Zutphen
were places of vital importance, and Stanley an Englishman of highest
consideration, one who had been deemed worthy of the command in chief in
Leicester's absence. Moreover, a cornet in the service of the Earl's
nephew, Sir Robert Sidney, had been seen at Zutphen in conference with
Tassis; and the horrible suspicion went abroad that even the illustrious
name of Sidney was to be polluted also. This fear was fortunately false,
although the cornet was unquestionably a traitor, with whom the enemy had
been tampering; but the mere thought that Sir Robert Sidney could betray
the trust reposed in him was almost enough to make the still unburied
corpse of his brother arise from the dead.

Parma was right when he said that all confidence of the Netherlanders in
the Englishmen would now be gone, and that the Provinces would begin to
doubt their best friends. No fresh treasons followed, but they were
expected every day. An organized