But just now one thing paralyzes my courage and will-anxiety about your fate; for who knows what is impending over us, and therefore it must be said, I must take my heart to the shambles and express a wish .-- A wish?
Oh, merciful Heaven, is there no other word for what I mean!" "Speak, Peter, speak, and do not torture me!" cried Maria, gazing anxiously into her husband's face.

It could be no small matter, that induced the clear-headed, resolute man to utter such confused language.
The burgomaster summoned up his courage and began again: "You are right, it is useless to keep back what must be said.

We have determined at the town-hall to-day, to request the women and girls to leave the city.

The road to Delft is still open; day after to-morrow it may no longer be so, afterwards--who can predict what will happen afterwards?
If no relief comes and the provisions are consumed, we shall be forced to open the gates to the enemy, and then, Maria, imagine what will happen! The Rhine and the canals will grow crimson, for much blood will flow into them and they will mirror an unequalled conflagration.
Woe betide the men, tenfold woe betide the women, against whom the conqueror's fury will then be directed.

And you, you--the wife of the man who has induced thousands to desert King Philip, the wife of the exile, who directs the resistance within these walls." At the last words Maria had opened her large eyes wider and wider, and now interrupted her husband with the question: "Do you wish to try how high my courage will rise ?" "No, Maria.