of Don John. While the Governor affected an ingenuous desire to aid the
estates in their efforts to free themselves from the remaining portion of
this incumbrance, he was secretly tampering with the leading German
officers, in order to prevent their acceptance of any offered terms. He
persuaded these military chiefs that a conspiracy existed, by which they
were not only to be deprived of their wages but of their lives. He
warned them to heed no promises, to accept no terms. Convincing them
that he, and he only, was their friend, he arranged secret plans by which
they should assist him in taking the fortresses of the country into still
more secure possession, for he was not more inclined to trust to the
Aerschots and the Havres than was the Prince himself.

The Governor lived in considerable danger, and in still greater dread of
capture, if not of assassination. His imagination, excited by endless
tales of ambush and half-discovered conspiracies, saw armed soldiers
behind every bush; a pitfall in every street. Had not the redoubtable
Alva been nearly made a captive? Did not Louis of Nassau nearly entrap
the Grand Commander? No doubt the Prince of Orange was desirous of
accomplishing a feat by which he would be placed in regard to Philip on
the vantage ground which the King had obtained by his seizure of Count
Van Buren, nor did Don John need for warnings coming from sources far
from obscure. In May, the Viscount De Gand had forced his way to his
bedside in the dead of night; and wakening him from his sleep, had
assured him, with great solemnity, that his life was not worth a pin's
purchase if he remained in Brussels. He was aware, he said, of a
conspiracy by which both his liberty and his life were endangered,
and assured him that in immediate flight lay his only safety.

The Governor fled to Mechlin, where the same warnings were soon
afterwards renewed, for the solemn sacrifice of Peter Panis, the poor