the head, and almost
mortally wounded. Under such circumstances even a brave man might have
seen a pitfall at every step, a dagger in every hand, and poison in every
cup. On the contrary, he was ever cheerful, and hardly took more
precaution than usual. "God in his mercy," said he, with unaffected
simplicity, "will maintain my innocence and my honor during my life and
in future ages. As to my fortune and my life, I have dedicated both, long
since, to His service. He will do therewith what pleases Him for His
glory and my salvation." Thus his suspicions were not even excited by the
ominous face of Gerard, when he first presented himself at the
dining-room door. The Prince laughed off his wife's prophetic
apprehension at the sight of his murderer, and was as cheerful as usual
to the last.

He possessed, too, that which to the heathen philosopher seemed the
greatest good--the sound mind in the sound body. His physical frame was
after death found so perfect that a long life might have been in store
for him, notwithstanding all which he had endured. The desperate illness
of 1574, the frightful gunshot wound inflicted by Jaureguy in 1582, had
left no traces. The physicians pronounced that his body presented an
aspect of perfect health. His temperament was cheerful. At table, the
pleasures of which, in moderation, were his only relaxation, he was
always animated and merry, and this jocoseness was partly natural, partly
intentional. In the darkest hours of his country's trial, he affected a
serenity which he was far from feeling, so that his apparent gaiety at
momentous epochs was even censured by dullards, who could not comprehend
its philosophy, nor applaud the flippancy of William the Silent.

He went through life bearing the load of a people's sorrows upon his
shoulders with a smiling face. Their name was the last word upon his
lips, save the simple affirmative, with which the soldier who had been
battling for the right all his lifetime, commended his soul in dying "to
his great captain, Christ." The people were grateful and affectionate,
for they trusted the character of their "Father William," and not all the
clouds which calumny could collect ever dimmed to their eyes the radiance
of that lofty mind to which they were accustomed, in their darkest
calamities, to look for light. As long as he lived, he was the
guiding-star of a whole brave nation, and when he died the little
children cried in the streets.

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