o my heart, that it can be lessened by no
distance of time or place, and I pray you in return to maintain the same
feelings towards me which you have always cherished."

The Prince had left Antwerp upon the 11th April, and had written these
letters from Breda, upon the 13th of the same month. Upon the 22d, he
took his departure for Dillenburg, the ancestral seat of his family in
Germany, by the way of Grave and Cleves.

It was not to be supposed that this parting message would influence
Egmont's decision with regard to his own movements, when his
determination had not been shaken at his memorable interview with the
Prince. The Count's fate was sealed. Had he not been praised by
Noircarmes; had he not earned the hypocritical commendations of Duchess
Margaret; nay more, had he not just received a most affectionate letter
of, thanks and approbation from the King of Spain himself? This letter,
one of the most striking monuments of Philip's cold-blooded perfidy, was
dated the 26th of March. "I am pleased, my cousin," wrote the monarch to
Egmont, "that you have taken the new oath, not that I considered it at
all necessary so far as regards yourself, but for the example which you
have thus given to others, and which I hope they will all follow. I have
received not less pleasure in hearing of the excellent manner in which
you are doing your duty, the assistance you are rendering, and the offers
which you are making to my sister, for which I thank you, and request you
to continue in the same course."

The words were written by the royal hand which had already signed the
death-warrant of the man to whom they were addressed. Alva, who came
provided with full powers to carry out the great scheme resolved upon,
unrestrained by provincial laws or by the statutes of the Golden Fleece,
had left Madrid to embark for Carthagena, at the very moment when Egmont
was reading the royal letter. "The Spanish honey," to use once more old
Landgrave Philip's homely metaphor, had done its work, and the
unfortunate victim was already entrapped.

Count Horn remained in gloomy silence in his lair at Weert, awaiting the
hunters of men, already on their way. It seemed inconceivable that he,
too, who knew himself suspected and disliked, should have thus blinded
himself to his position. It will be seen, however, that the same perfidy
was to be employed to ensnare him which proved so successful with Egmont.

As for the Prince himself, he did not move t