informed his Majesty that he was secretly meditating a retreat to some
place of security; judging very properly that, if he were still his own
master, he should be able to exert more influence over those who were
still well disposed, than if he should suffer himself to be taken
captive. A suppressed conviction that he could effect nothing, except
with his sword, pierced through all his more prudent reflections. He
maintained that, after all, there was no remedy for the body but to cut
off the diseased parts at once, and he therefore begged his Majesty for
the means of performing the operation handsomely. The general
expressions which he had previously used in favor of broths and mild
treatment hardly tallied with the severe amputation thus recommended.
There was, in truth, a constant struggle going on between the fierceness
of his inclinations and the shackles which had been imposed upon him.
He already felt entirely out of place, and although he scorned to fly
from his post so long as it seemed the post of danger, he was most
anxious that the King should grant him his dismissal, so soon as his
presence should no longer be imperiously required. He was sure that the
people would never believe in his Majesty's forgiveness until the man
concerning whom they entertained so much suspicion should be removed; for
they saw in him only the "thunderbolt of his Majesty's wrath." Orange
and England confirmed their suspicions, and sustained their malice.
Should he be compelled, against his will, to remain, he gave warning that
he might do something which would be matter of astonishment to everybody.

Meantime, the man in whose hands really lay the question of war and
peace, sat at Middelburg, watching the deep current of events as it
slowly flowed towards the precipice. The whole population of Holland and
Zealand hung on his words. In approaching the realms of William the
Silent, Don John felt that he had entered a charmed, circle, where the
talisman of his own illustrious name lost its power, where his valor was