and through, and a thousand picked men--Parma's very "daintiest"--were
blown out of existence. The Governor-General himself was lying stark and
stiff upon the bridge which he said should be his triumphal monument or
his tomb. His most distinguished officers were dead, and all the
survivors were dumb and blind with astonishment at the unheard of,
convulsion. The passage was open for the fleet, and the fleet, lay below
with sails spread, and oars in the rowlocks, only waiting for the signal
to bear up at once to the scene of action, to smite out of existence all
that remained of the splendid structure, and to carry relief and triumph
into Antwerp.

Not a soul slept in the city. The explosion had shook its walls, and
thousands of people thronged the streets, their hearts beating high with
expectation. It was a moment of exquisite triumph. The 'Hope,' word of
happy augury, had not been relied upon in vain, and Parma's seven months
of patient labour had been annihilated in a moment. Sainte Aldegonde and
Gianibelli stood in the 'Boors' Sconce' on the edge of the river. They
had felt and heard the explosion, and they were now straining their eyes
through the darkness to mark the flight of the welcome rocket.

That rocket never rose. And it is enough, even after the lapse of three
centuries, to cause a pang in every heart that beats for human liberty to
think of the bitter disappointment which crushed these great and
legitimate hopes. The cause lay in the incompetency and cowardice of the
man who had been so unfortunately entrusted with a share in a noble
enterprise.

Admiral Jacobzoon, paralyzed by the explosion, which announced his own
triumph, sent off the barge, but did not wait for its return. The
boatmen, too, appalled by the sights and sounds which they had witnessed,