from no sacrifice to save Leyden.

The two women joyously shook hands with each other; the bells continued
to ring merrily, and report after report of cannon made the window-panes
rattle.

As twilight approached, Maria turned her steps towards home. It was long
since her heart had been so light. The black tablets on the houses
containing cases of plague did not look so sorrowful to-day, the
emaciated faces seemed less pitiful than usual, for to them also help was
approaching. The faithful endurance was to be rewarded, the cause of
freedom would conquer.

She entered the "broad street" with winged steps. Thousands of citizens
had flocked into it to see, hear, and learn what might be hoped, or what
still gave cause for fear. Musicians had been stationed at the corners
to play lively airs; the Beggars' song mingled with the pipes and
trumpets and the cheers of enthusiastic men. But there were also throngs
of well-dressed citizens and women, who loudly and fearlessly mocked at
the gay music and exulting simpletons, who allowed themselves to be
cajoled by empty promises. Where was the relief? What could the handful
of Beggars--which at the utmost were all the troops the Prince could
bring--do against King Philip's terrible military power, that surrounded
Leyden? And the inundation of the country? The ground on which the city
stood was too high for the water ever to reach it. The peasants had been
injured, without benefitting the citizens. There was only one means of
escape--to trust to the King's mercy.

"What is liberty to us?" shouted a brewer, who, like all his companions
in business, had long since been deprived of his grain and forbidden to