appeared the grim visage of Martin Schenk, the man
who never smiled. Clad in no wedding-garment, but in armour of proof,
with morion on head, and sword in hand, the great freebooter strode
heavily through the ball-room, followed by a party of those terrible
musketeers who never gave or asked for quarter, while the affrighted
revellers fluttered away before them.

Taking advantage of a dark night, he had just dropped down the river from
his castle, with five-and-twenty barges, had landed with his most trusted
soldiers in the foremost vessels, had battered down the gate of St.
Anthony, and surprised and slain the guard. Without waiting for the rest
of his boats, he had then stolen with his comrades through the silent
streets, and torn away the lattice-work, and other slight defences on the
rear of the house which they had now entered, and through which they
intended to possess themselves of the market-place. Martin had long since
selected this mansion as a proper position for his enterprise, but he had
not been bidden to the wedding, and was somewhat disconcerted when he
found himself on the festive scene which he had so grimly interrupted.
Some of the merry-makers escaped from the house, and proceeded to alarm
the town; while Schenk hastily fortified his position; and took
possession of the square. But the burghers and garrison were soon on
foot, and he was driven back into the house. Three times he recovered the
square by main strength of his own arm, seconded by the handful of men
whom he had brought with him, and three times he was beaten back by
overwhelming numbers into the wedding mansion. The arrival of the greater
part of his followers, with whose assistance he could easily have
mastered the city in the first moments of surprise, was mysteriously
delayed. He could not account for their prolonged, absence, and was
meanwhile supported only by those who had arrived with him in the
foremost barges.

The truth--of which he was ignorant--was, that the remainder of the
flotilla, borne along by the strong and deep current of the Waal, then in
a state of freshet, had shot past the landing-place, and had ever since
been vainly struggling against wind and tide to force their way back to
the necessary point. Meantime Schenk and his followers fought desperately
in the market-place, and desperately in the house which he had seized.
But a whole garrison, and a town full of citizens in arms proved too much
for him, and he was