As the martial stadholder at the head of his brilliant cavalcade rode forth across the drawbridge from the Inner Court of the old moated palace--where the ancient sovereign Dirks and Florences of Holland had so long ruled their stout little principality--along the shady and stately Kneuterdyk and so through the Voorhout, an immense crowd thronged around his path and accompanied him to the church.

It was as if the great soldier were marching to siege or battle-field where fresher glories than those of Sluys or Geertruidenberg were awaiting him.
The train passed by Barneveld's house and entered the cloister.

More than four thousand persons were present at the service or crowded around the doors vainly attempting to gain admission into the overflowing aisles; while the Great Church was left comparatively empty, a few hundred only worshipping there.

The Cloister Church was thenceforth called the Prince's Church, and a great revolution was beginning even in the Hague.
The Advocate was wroth as he saw the procession graced by the two stadholders and their military attendants.

He knew that he was now to bow his head to the Church thus championed by the chief personage and captain-general of the state, to renounce his dreams of religious toleration, to sink from his post of supreme civic ruler, or to accept an unequal struggle in which he might utterly succumb.