influence with the Reformers might be turned to account. The tools and
the work accomplished by them were to be thrown away at the most
convenient opportunity.

The Admiral was placed in a most intolerable position. An honest,
common-place, sullen kind of man, he had come to a city full of heretics,
to enforce concessions just made by the government to heresy. He soon
found himself watched, paltered with, suspected by the administration at
Brussels. Governor Moulbais in the citadel, who was nominally under his
authority, refused obedience to his orders, was evidently receiving
secret instructions from the Regent, and was determined to cannonade the
city into submission at a very early day. Horn required him to pledge
himself that no fresh troops should enter the castle. Moulbais swore he
would make no such promise to a living soul. The Admiral stormed with
his usual violence, expressed his regret that his brother Montigny had so
bad a lieutenant in the citadel, but could make no impression upon the
determined veteran, who knew, better than Horn, the game which was
preparing. Small reinforcements were daily arriving at the castle; the
soldiers of the garrison had been heard to boast "that they would soon
carve and eat the townsmen's flesh on their dressers," and all the good
effect from the Admiral's proclamation on arriving, had completely
vanished.

Horn complained bitterly of the situation in which he was placed.
He knew himself the mark of incessant and calumnious misrepresentation
both at Brussels and Madrid. He had been doing his best, at a momentous
crisis, to serve the government without violating its engagements, but he
declared himself to be neither theologian nor jurist, and incapable,
while suspected and unassisted, of performing a task which the most
learned doctors of the council would find impracticable. He would