and bitter, and ever and anon rose on the breeze a sound like the roar of an angry sea. "Death to the Catholics!" and the words were no meaningless threat.
Every eye was fixed on the Prince. He raised his hand and all kept silence.
"Lower your weapons!"
Every man obeyed involuntarily.
"Citizens, Protestants, what are you contemplating? Has not enough blood been shed, that you threaten to spill that of thousands more of your fellow countrymen? Does your gospel teach you an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth? Are you the followers of Him who said, 'Bless and curse not'? In what, pray, are you better than those with whom you contend?"
"Coward!" hissed one. "Traitor!" yelled another. "Would you sacrifice us as you did our brethren at Oosterweel?" demanded a third.
The excitement grew intense. One man, shaking with rage, seized the bridle of the horse on which the Prince rode. "Where is my son?" he cried. "Where is my daughter's lover?" A stern voice close at his elbow called out in clear tones: "Prince William, account to us for our dead at Ooserweel, or your life shall answer for yesterday."
A dozen pikes were levelled at the breast of Orange, and to-day no arm was raised to defend him. Alone he stood facing thousands of infuriated men.
