CHAPTER XVIII.
what the stars saw at oosterweel.
In the royal palace at Brussels all was confusion and uproar. The news of the riot at Antwerp had reached the capital, and wildly exaggerated reports flew from mouth to mouth, until the truth was lost in a mass of error. It was stated to the Regent that the provinces of Hainault, Flanders and Artois had been laid waste, and that a large army of Protestants was already marching to Brussels to demand restitution.
"My life is not safe for a moment here," said the Regent as she paced the floor of her room half insane with terror. "Troops, troops, gentlemen! Give me troops, that I may exact blood for blood from these scurrilous miscreants!" she entreated the members of the State Council. It was in vain that her advisers tried to pacify the thoroughly frightened woman.
That very night, Viglius, the president of the Council, forced his way into the Regent's chamber, where he found the royal lady dressed in her trav-
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