Trautchen brought in the lamp, and at last Peter's step was heard on the stairs.
It must be he, and yet it was not, for he never came up with such slow and dragging feet.
Then the study door opened.
It was he! What could have happened, what had the citizens determined?
With an anxious heart, she told Trautchen to stay with the child, and then went to her husband.
Peter sat at the writing-table in full official uniform, with his hat still on his head.

His face lay buried on his folded arms, beside the sconce.
He saw nothing, heard nothing, and when she at last called him, started, sprang up and flung his hat violently on the table.

His hair was dishevelled, his glance restless, and in the faint light of the glimmering candles his cheeks looked deadly pale.
"What do you want ?" he asked curtly, in a harsh voice; but for a time Maria made no reply, fear paralyzed her tongue.
At last she found words, and deep anxiety was apparent in her question: "What has happened ?" "The beginning of the end," he answered in a hollow tone.
"They have out-voted you ?" cried the young wife.

"Baersdorp and the other cowards want to negotiate ?" Peter drew himself up to his full height, and exclaimed in a loud, threatening tone: "Guard your tongue! He who remains steadfast until his children die and corpses bar the way in front of his own house, he who bears the responsibility of a thousand deaths, endures curses and imprecations through long weeks, and has vainly hoped for deliverance during more than a third of a year--he who, wherever he looks, sees nothing save unprecedented, constantly increasing misery and then no longer repels the saving hand of the foe--" "Is a coward, a traitor, who breaks the sacred oath he has sworn." "Maria," cried Peter angrily, approaching with a threatening gesture.
She drew her slender figure up to its full height and with quickened breath awaited him, pointing her finger at him, as she exclaimed with a sharp tone perceptible through the slight tremor in her voice: "You, you have voted with the Baersdorps, you, Peter Van der Werff! You have done this thing, you, the friend of the Prince, the shield and providence of this brave city, you, the man who received the oaths of the citizens, the martyr's son, the servant of liberty--" "No more!" he interrupted, trembling with shame and rage.

"Do you know what it is to bear the guilt of this most terrible suffering before God and men ?" "Yes, yes, thrice yes; it is laying one's heart on the rack, to save Holland and liberty.