Then round the iron Duke, who looks steadfastly on the doom that is upon him, are thrown a pair of girl’s white arms, and Hermoine de Alva from off her father’s breast beseeches: “Spare him, if you have mercy on me! Spare him, husband, if you would have a happy bride in your arms to-night—for in your arms I should remember that you were the murderer of my father.” “Spare him, young man, I charge you, as I saved you,” cries the priest. “Yes, that you did, good Father Anastasius,” cries Hermoine, as Guy drops his hand; and in another moment the hermit priest gets such a kiss as never St. Anthony had, else he had succumbed; and the good father murmurs: “For this feast of the flesh I will fast another week!” But they are all laughing now, and joyous, save Don Fernando, as he mutters: “What ransom?” Then to Guy’s eyes come the picture of the blockaded town, the men gaunt with hunger, the famishing women—the starving children—and he answers: “The freedom of Haarlem!” and feels he has a nation in this chance. “Never! I have gold to pay for my life, but before one banner recedes from Haarlem leaguer, or one soldier turns his back upon that town, hew me down!” is Alva’s determined answer. “Butcher me if you will, but no one shall say that Don Fernando de Toledo sold for his life his allegiance to his sovereign.” “Let them have a little bread.” Guy is pleading now. “Never!” “Let the women and children come out to make the fewer mouths to feed!” is Hermoine’s appealing cry. “Never!” Then if there were Dutchmen about him, the Duke would die; as it is, the English seamen cast on him glances of hatred and rage and lay hands upon their swords. But Chester cries: “Down with your weapons! Not from the hands of any of my men can harm come to the father of the blessing of my life. Come with me, my Hermoine.” And the girl goes to him. Seeing this my lord of Alva falters: “You—you are going to take her away?” “Why not? You do not love her!” “By my soul I love her. It was an affair of State. At least promise if you will not live with me, Hermoine—you’ll come back to visit me some time—after you have forgot.” But the girl answers: “No. I could not come without my husband, and I could never trust your love for me to save his life, had you the power to slay. It would be—‘an affair of State!’ What was my life, my happiness, everything I had on earth, as I plead with you scarce five minutes since, to ‘an affair of State!’ Father, keep your statecraft, it has cost you the only heart in all this world that—that loved you!” Here the beautiful being falters in her speech, and going up to this man who had been so much to her—till now—she murmurs: “You were always tender and good to me—before!” and places kiss upon his brow.