incapable of a thought of worldly advancement for himself, but he was a
master of the logic often thought most conclusive in those days; no man
insinuating golden arguments more adroitly than he into half-reluctant
palms. Blessed with a visage of more than Flemish frankness, he had in
reality a most wily and unscrupulous disposition. Insensible to
contumely, and incapable of accepting a rebuff, he could wind back to his
purpose when less supple negotiators would have been crushed.

He was described by his admirers as uniting the wisdom of the serpent
with the guilelessness of the dove. Who better than he then, in this
double capacity, to coil himself around the rebellion, and to carry the
olive-branch in his mouth?

On the 25th February the monk, disguised in the dress of a burgher,
arrived at Ryswick, a village a mile and a half from the Hague. He was
accompanied on the journey by Cruwel, and they gave themselves out as
travelling tradesmen. After nightfall, a carriage having been sent to the
hostelry, according to secret agreement, by Recorder Aerssens, John Neyen
was brought to the Hague. The friar, as he was driven on through these
hostile regions, was somewhat startled, on looking out, to find himself
accompanied by two mounted musketeers on each side of the carriage, but
they proved to have been intended as a protective escort. He was brought
to the recorder's house, whence, after some delay, he was conveyed to the
palace. Here he was received by an unknown and silent attendant, who took
him by the hand and led him through entirely deserted corridors and
halls. Not a human being was seen nor a sound heard until his conductor
at last reached the door of an inner apartment through which he ushered
him, without speaking a syllable. The monk then found himself in the
presence of two personages, seated at a table covered with books and
papers. One was in military undress, with an air about him of habitual
command, a fair-complexioned man of middle age, inclining to baldness,
rather stout, with a large blue eye, regular features, and a
mouse-coloured beard. The other was in the velvet cloak and grave
habiliments of a civil functionary, apparently sixty years of age, with a
massive features, and a shaggy beard. The soldier was Maurice of Nassau,
the statesman was John of Olden-Barneveld.

Both rose as the friar entered, and greeted him with cordiality.

"But," said the prince, "how did you dare to enter the Hague, rely