black and white plumes, on his head, and held a handkerchief in his hand.
As he strode to and fro, he expressed a bitter regret that he had not
been permitted to die, sword in hand, fighting for his country and his
king. Sanguine to the last, he passionately asked Romero, whether the
sentence was really irrevocable, whether a pardon was not even then to be
granted. The marshal shrugged his shoulders, murmuring a negative reply.
Upon this, Egmont gnashed his teeth together, rather in rage than
despair. Shortly afterward commanding himself again, he threw aside his
robe and mantle, and took the badge of the Golden Fleece from his neck.
Kneeling, then, upon one of the cushions, he said the Lord's Prayer
aloud, and requested the Bishop, who knelt at his side, to repeat it
thrice. After this, the prelate gave him the silver crucifix to kiss,
and then pronounced his blessing upon him. This done, the Count rose
again to his feet, laid aside his hat and handkerchief, knelt again upon
the cushion, drew a little cap over his eyes, and, folding his hands
together, cried with a loud voice, "Lord, into Thy hands I commit my
spirit." The executioner then suddenly appeared, and severed his head
from his shoulders at a single blow.

A moment of shuddering silence succeeded the stroke. The whole vast
assembly seemed to have felt it in their own hearts. Tears fell from the
eyes even of the Spanish soldiery, for they knew and honored Egmont as a
valiant general. The French embassador, Mondoucet, looking upon the
scene from a secret place, whispered that he had now seen the head fall
before which France had twice trembled. Tears were even seen upon the
iron cheek of Alva, as, from a window in a house directly opposite the
scaffold, he looked out upon the scene.

A dark cloth was now quickly thrown over the body and the blood, and,
within a few minutes, the Admiral was seen advancing through the crowd.