anded a
passport. The Princess, struck with the pale and agitated countenance of
the man, anxiously questioned her husband concerning the stranger. The
Prince carelessly observed that "it was merely a person who came for a
passport," ordering, at the same time, a secretary forthwith to prepare
one. The Princess, still not relieved, observed in an under-tone that
"she had never seen so villainous a countenance." Orange, however, not at
all impressed with the appearance of Gerard, conducted himself at table
with his usual cheerfulness, conversing much with the burgomaster of
Leewarden, the only guest present at the family dinner, concerning the
political and religious aspects of Friesland. At two o'clock the company
rose from table. The Prince led the way, intending to pass to his private
apartments above. The dining-room, which was on the ground floor, opened
into a little square vestibule, which communicated, through an arched
passageway, with the main entrance into the court-yard. This vestibule
was also directly at the foot of the wooden staircase leading to the next
floor, and was scarcely six feet in width. Upon its left side, as one
approached the stairway, was an obscure arch, sunk deep in the wall, and
completely in the shadow of the door. Behind this arch a portal opened to
the narrow lane at the side of the house. The stairs themselves were
completely lighted by a large window, half way up the flight. The Prince
came from the dining-room, and began leisurely to ascend. He had only
reached the second stair, when a man emerged from the sunken arch, and,
standing within a foot or two of him, discharged a pistol full at his
heart. Three balls entered his body, one of which, passing quite through
him, struck with violence against the wall beyond. The Prince exclaimed
in French, as he felt the wound, "O my God; have mercy upon my soul! O my
God, have mercy upon this poor people."

These were the last words he ever spoke, save that when his sister,
Catherine of Schwartzburg, immediately afterwards asked him if he
commended his soul to Jesus Christ, he faintly answered, "Yes." His
master of the horse, Jacob van Maldere, had caught him in his arms as the
fatal shot was fired. The Prince was then placed on the stairs for an
instant, when he immediately began to swoon. He was afterwards laid upon
a couch in the dining-room, where in a few minutes, he breathed his last
in the arms of his wife and sister.

The murderer suc