“Your arguments, Seigneur, shall receive my careful attention,” replied William. “I beg of you to incur no needless risks in your zeal for the cause. Farewell.”
Junius passed into an ante-room, where the young advocate helped him into his disguise. With a white wig, long white mustache, and a harp slung over his shoulder, he presented the figure common in those days, of a travelling minstrel.
“The servants are anxious for an exhibition of your skill as a musician,” said Conrad. “Do you think it would be wise to gratify them?”
“By all means!” was the reply.
They found the servants assembled in the spacious hall. The aged minstrel struck a few chords on the harp, and then sang in a rich baritone voice a stirring song very popular at this time:
“We have taken our land from the sea,
Its fields are all yellow with grain;
Its meadows are green on the lea,
And now shall we give it to Spain?
No, no, no, no!
“We have planted the faith that is pure,
That faith to the end we’ll maintain;
For the word and the truth must endure;
Shall we bow to the Pope and to Spain?
No, no, no, no!
“Shall we give up our long cherished right?
Make the blood of our fathers in vain?
Do we fear any tyrant to fight?
Shall we hold out our hands to the chain?
No, no, no, no!
