“The beginning of the end,” he answered in a hollow tone.
“They have out-voted you?” cried the young wife. “Baersdorp and the other cowards want to negotiate?”
Peter drew himself up to his full height, and exclaimed in a loud, threatening tone:
“Guard your tongue! He who remains steadfast until his children die and corpses bar the way in front of his own house, he who bears the responsibility of a thousand deaths, endures curses and imprecations through long weeks, and has vainly hoped for deliverance during more than a third of a year—he who, wherever he looks, sees nothing save unprecedented, constantly increasing misery and then no longer repels the saving hand of the foe—”
“Is a coward, a traitor, who breaks the sacred oath he has sworn.”
“Maria,” cried Peter angrily, approaching with a threatening gesture.
She drew her slender figure up to its full height and with quickened breath awaited him, pointing her finger at him, as she exclaimed with a sharp tone perceptible through the slight tremor in her voice:
“You, you have voted with the Baersdorps, you, Peter Van der Werff! You have done this thing, you, the friend of the Prince, the shield and providence of this brave city, you, the man who received the oaths of the citizens, the martyr’s son, the servant of liberty—”
“No more!” he interrupted, trembling with shame and rage. “Do you know what it is to bear the guilt of this most terrible suffering before God and men?”
“Yes, yes, thrice yes; it is laying one’s heart on the rack, to save Holland and liberty. That is what it means! Oh, God, my God! You are lost! You intend to negotiate with Valdez!”