at dice, betting whether the Lord or the Devil would get the soul of
Barneveld. Many a foul and ribald jest at the expense of the prisoner
was exchanged between these gamblers, some of their comrades, and a few
townsmen, who were grouped about at that early hour. The horrible
libels, caricatures, and calumnies which had been circulated, exhibited,
and sung in all the streets for so many months had at last thoroughly
poisoned the minds of the vulgar against the fallen statesman.

The great mass of the spectators had forced their way by daybreak into
the hall itself to hear the sentence, so that the Inner Courtyard had
remained comparatively empty.

At last, at half past nine o'clock, a shout arose, "There he comes!
there he comes!" and the populace flowed out from the hall of judgment
into the courtyard like a tidal wave.

In an instant the Binnenhof was filled with more than three thousand
spectators.

The old statesman, leaning on his staff, walked out upon the scaffold and
calmly surveyed the scene. Lifting his eyes to Heaven, he was heard to
murmur, "O God! what does man come to!" Then he said bitterly once more:
"This, then, is the reward of forty years' service to the State!"

La Motte, who attended him, said fervently: "It is no longer time to
think of this. Let us prepare your coming before God."

"Is there no cushion or stool to kneel upon?" said Barneveld, looking
around him.