"I had hoped to catch a glimpse of my lord Marlborough himself, but ’twas not to be. Whatever may be said of his meanness and selfishness, Mynheer, ’tis certain he is adored by his army. The soldiers are full of courage, confident in my lord’s genius, and all afire to meet the French. They say, indeed, that if my lord were but free of restraint, not bound to take counsel with your politicians here, one campaign would see the end of the war." "Dey zay!—Yes, well, it may be zo. My lord is a fine soldier—none would deny it—for all he dink little of de rules of war. But as for de field deputies—my countrymen—dey alzo have reason. To Lord Marlborough and you English, my boy, a defeat mean much; dat is zo; but to my country—ah! much more. To us it mean ruin, every village and town overrun, our polders spoiled, our homes destroyed, everywhere black misery. Dis poor country know it all too well; we have suffered—ah yes! we have suffered before too often. For my lord, it is a game wherein he can noding lose but glory; for us it is a struggle of life and death. True, for myself, I zay in war, as in business, to follow a bold course is best; but I do not derefore blame our statesmen dat dey move zlowly; no, I do not blame dem." Harry had seen more than once lately that beneath the stolid exterior of the merchant beat a heart warm toward his fatherland and his friends. He could not but recognize much to sympathize with in the Dutch point of view, and began to realize what it meant to the Hollanders to have their country turned into a cockpit for the political contentions of rival monarchs. A slight pause followed Grootz’s earnest speech; then suddenly, with a change of tone, he said: "Now, Mynheer Harry, I have a ding to zay. Dere are reasons why I find it now necessary to discharge you from my business." Harry gasped and looked very blank. The merchant nodded solemnly; up came his fat forefinger; and he continued with even more deliberation than usual: "Dat is zo. I tell you dis; I find no fault wid you; none in de world; but all de same, I zay dat it is necessary you go." Harry was so much taken aback that he found it difficult to speak. "Why—’tis sudden—what can—surely—" his tongue stumbled over half a dozen questions before, with an effort to command himself, he said: "Of course, Mynheer, if there is nothing more for me to do, I must perforce seek other work. You have been very kind to me; ’tis but poor thanks I can give you for what you have done." "What I have done! Gunst! it is noding. And you: it needs not to zeek oder work; it is found. Hearken to dis." He took up an official-looking paper that lay at his hand and read in Dutch: "Mynheer Henry Rochester is appointed to a cornetcy in the Anspach dragoons in succession to Mynheer Lodewyk van Monnen deceased." Harry flushed to the eyes. "’Tis a mistake, Mynheer, surely. I have not sought this; I know nothing of it."