"BRUSSELS, June 5, 1568, near my last moments."


This letter he placed in the hands of the bishop, with the strongest
injunctions for its safe delivery; and for greater security he sent a
duplicate in his own handwriting to State Counsellor Viglius, the most
upright man in the senate, by whom, there is no doubt, it was actually
delivered to the king. The family of the count were subsequently
reinstated in all his property, fiefs, and rights, which, by virtue of
the sentence, had escheated to the royal treasury.

Meanwhile a scaffold had been erected in the marketplace, before the
town hall, on which two poles were fixed with iron spikes, and the whole
covered with black cloth. Two-and-twenty companies of the Spanish
garrison surrounded the scaffold, a precaution which was by no means
superfluous. Between ten and eleven o'clock the Spanish guard appeared
in the apartment of the count; they were provided with cords to tie his
hands according to custom. He begged that this might be spared him, and
declared that he was willing and ready to die. He himself cut off the
collar from his doublet to facilitate the executioner's duty. He wore a
robe of red damask, and over that a black Spanish cloak trimmed with
gold lace. In this dress he appeared on the scaffold, and was attended
by Don Julian Romero, maitre-de-camp; Salinas, a Spanish captain; and
the Bishop of Ypres. The grand provost of the court, with a red wand in
his hand, sat on horseback at the foot of the scaffold; the executioner
was concealed beneath.

Egmont had at first shown a desire to address the people from the
scaffold. He desisted, however, on the bishop's representing to him
that either he would not be heard, or that if he were, he might--such at