"The Spanish captain gave a signal, and I saw the executioner spring out from under the scaffold cloth, and it was over very swiftly."
The women remained pale and silent, only Hoogstraaten's wife asked, "And Hoorne—my brother?"
"The Admiral was more unmoved. He was all in black, and conducted himself without passion save when he saw his escutcheon hanging reversed on the scaffold, when he protested hotly. He looked on the body of Egmont, then wished the crowd happiness, and begged them to pray for his soul—which I, for one, have done," added Junius simply. "He was not wept for like Count Egmont, but I think he was the better man."
"He lived, and died, gloomily," said the Countess Hoogstraaten. "He had no joy in wife or child. I wish I had been with him at the end."
"Even in his coffin he was lonely," answered Junius He lay in Ste Gudule, and no one went near him; but when Egmont was in St. Clara you could not move for the crowd weeping and praying. Yet, Madame,"—he turned to Hoorne's sister,—"the Admiral will always have the greater honour before God."
"And the Countess Egmont?" asked Juliana of Stolberg.
"She and her children were in the utmost poverty, for every thaler he possessed was confiscate. The day of the execution they were supperless, and fled to a convent. Alva, it was said," smiled the preacher, "recommended them to Philip's charity."
The Nassau ladies exchanged commiserating glances, but Anne looked coldly; the Countess of Egmont had always been an object of her dislike and envy.
"It is a good lesson to one who was ever over-proud," she remarked.
These harsh words, the first that she had uttered since Junius entered her presence, caused the preacher to look at her with a stern surprise.