Parma, in reply, was prodigal of promises, reminding the young noble "that he was serving a sovereign who well knew how to reward the distinguished exploits of his subjects." Such was the language of Philip the Second and his Governor to the son of the headless hero of Saint Quentin; such was the fawning obsequiousness with which Egmont could kiss that royal hand reeking with his father's blood.
Meanwhile the siege of Maestricht had been advancing with steady precision.

To military minds of that epoch--perhaps of later ages--this achievement of Parma seemed a masterpiece of art.

The city commanded the Upper Meuse, and was the gate into Germany.

It contained thirty-four thousand inhabitants.

An army, numbering almost as many Souls, was brought against it; and the number of deaths by which its capture was at last effected, was probably equal to that of a moiety of the population.
To the technical mind, the siege no doubt seemed a beautiful creation of human intelligence.