They led me along in silence to the fire, before which, with his back turned towards it, stood a short man, with a sallow, stern countenance, and a great, broad forehead, his hair combed straight over it. He wore a green coat with white facings, and over that a grey surtout with fur. I am particular about all this, because this little man was a person of consequence. “You are late, Monsieur de Hoogendorp,” said he, in French; “it is half- past four;” and so saying, he pulled out his watch, and held it up before me. “Ja!” said I, taking out my own, “we are just the same time.” At this he stamped upon the ground, and said something I thought was a curse. “Where are the _Echevins_, monsieur?” said he. “God knows,” said I; “most probably at dinner.” “_Ventrebleu!_----” “Don’t swear,” said I. “If I had you in Rotterdam, I’d fine you two guilders.” “What does he say?” while his eyes flashed fire. “Tell _La grande morue_, to speak French.” “Tell him I am not a cod fish,” said I. “Who speaks Dutch here?” said he. “General de Ritter, ask him where are the _Echevins_, or, is the man a fool?” “I have heard,” said the General, bowing obsequiously--“I have heard, your Majesty, that he is little better.” “_Tonnerre de Dieu!_” said he; “and this is their chief magistrate! Maret, you must look to this to-morrow; and as it grows late now, let us see the citadel at once; he can show us the way thither, I suppose”; and with this he moved forward, followed by the rest, among whom I found myself hurried along, no one any longer paying me the slightest respect, or attention. “To the citadel,” said one. “To the citadel,” cried another. “Come, Hoogendorp, lead the way,” cried several together; and so they pushed me to the front, and, notwithstanding all I said, that I did not know the citadel, from the Dome Church, they would listen to nothing, but only called the louder, “Step out, old ‘_Grande culotte_,’” and hurried me down the street, at the pace of a boar-hunt. “Lead on,” cried one. “To the front,” said another. “Step out,” roared three or four together; and I found myself at the head of the procession, without the power to explain or confess my ignorance. “As sure as my name is Peter van Hoogendorp, I’ll give you all a devil’s dance,” said I to myself; and with that, I grasped my staff, and set out as fast as I was able. Down, one narrow street we went, and up, another; sometimes we got into a _cul de sac_, where there was no exit, and had to turn back again; another time, we would ascend a huge flight of steps, and come plump into a tanner’s yard, or a place where they were curing fish, and so, we blundered on, till there wasn’t a blind alley, nor crooked lane, of Antwerp, that we didn’t wade through, and I was becoming foot-sore, and tired myself, with the exertion.