I hate the Castilians. I have learned to know them in Leyderdorp and
at the Hague. They don't heed me, because I am young, and they are not
aware that I understand their language. So my eyes were opened. When
they speak of us, it is with contempt and scorn. I know all that has
been done by Alva and Vargas. I have heard from the Spaniards' own lips,
that they would like to root us out, exterminate us. If I could only do
as I pleased, and were it not for my father, I know what I would do. My
head is so confused. The burgomaster's speech is driving me out of my
wits. Tell him, junket, I beseech you, tell him I hate the Spaniards and
it would be my pride to be a Netherlander."

Both had continued their walk, and as they approached the burgomaster's
house, the captain, who had listened to the youth with joyful surprise,
said:

"You're cut from good timber, Junker, and on the way to the right goal.
Only keep Herr Peter's speech in your mind, and remember what you have
learned in history. To whom belong the shining purple pages in the great
book of national history? To the tyrants, their slaves and eye-servants,
or the men who lived and died for liberty? Hold up your head. This
conflict will perhaps outlast both our lives, and you still have a long
time to put yourself on the right side. The nobleman must serve his
Prince, but he need be no slave of a ruler, least of all a foreigner,
an enemy of his nation. Here we are; I'll come for you again in an hour.
Give me your hand. I should like to call you by your Christian name in
future, my brave Nico."

"Call me so," exclaimed the youth, "and--you'll send no one else? I
should like to talk with you again."