Egmont and Hoogstraaten endeavoured to prevail on the rest of the company to disperse; intoxicated and excited as most of these were, they yet retained sufficient wit to rouse to a sense of their own foolishness; to more than one the red wine running over floor and table and staining each others' faces and garments became a prediction of the red blood that might be flowing soon.
They well knew that Philip was as prodigal of blood as Netherland nobles of their wine; the sobriety and slight awe that had come over the gathering with the entry and remonstrances of the three was heightened by one of those trivial incidents that highly affect overwrought minds.
The sugar foundation of the elaborate and costly sweetmeat in the centre of the table suddenly gave way; the heat had melted it unperceived, and as its support flowed in sickly thick streams over the golden comport and the stained cloth, the little figures of the confederates fell here and there, mere crushed lumps of sweet, and nothing remained of the gorgeous piece of triumphal confectionery but a sticky discoloured mess.
"Men of sugar, men of sugar," muttered the Admiral. "So shall this company melt away."
The ugly omen was noticed by several; in twos and threes they smoothed their disordered habits and departed.
Only Brederode remained where he was, wrapt in a sudden melancholy.
"I shall die a poor soldier at the feet of Count Louis," he kept muttering; then: "Capon and sausage on Friday! Who says I did eat it lies twenty feet down in his throat!"
Seeing the company was now dispersed, the three nobles took their leave, Hoogstraaten accompanying them.
They came out into the calm April night, which was moonless and full of sweetness; the stars lay entangled in little wisps of clouds, an under-breeze came fragrantly from the spring fields of Brabant.
William glanced back at the brilliantly lit mansion behind them.