Early in the year 1540 the Emperor arrived at Cambrai, proceeding next to Valenciennes and Brussels. Meanwhile a strong force of German soldiers entered the city--meeting with no resistance from its now thoroughly terrified inhabitants, many of whom no doubt wished they could restore the dead Doyen des Métiers, whom they had so cruelly sacrificed, to life again that he might plead their cause with the dreaded Emperor. They had good reason to tremble, for in a few days the ring-leaders of the late troubles began to be arrested and all men were forbidden, under penalty of death, to harbour them or aid them to escape their sovereign's wrath. A few days later nine of the mutineers were executed on the Place Ste. Pharaïlde where Liévin Pyn had perished at their hands six months before. The magistrates were now filled with terror and abjectly pleaded for mercy. The Emperor haughtily replied that he knew how to be merciful and also how to do justice, and that he would presently give judgment on the city "in such a manner that it would never be forgotten and others would take therefrom an example." This disquieting response was followed by the Emperor's famous visit to the top of the cathedral tower in company with the Duke of Alva. It was on this occasion that the latter, with the ferocity that afterwards made his name a by-word for cruelty for future ages, counselled his sovereign to utterly destroy the rebellious city. To this the Emperor responded with the _bon mot_ that showed at once his sense of humour and his moderation. Pointing to the wide-spreading red roofs of the populous city he asked, "How many Spanish skins do you think it would take to make a glove (_Gand_, the French spelling of Ghent, also means glove) as large as this?" [Illustration: PORTRAIT OF THE DUKE OF ALVA BY A. MORO.]