Meantime these pacific and gentle murmurings from Farnese's camp had lulled the Queen into forgetfulness of Roger Williams and Arnold Groenevelt and their men, fighting day and night in trench and mine during that critical midsummer.
The wily tongue of the Duke had been more effective than his batteries in obtaining the much-coveted city.

The Queen obstinately held back her men and money, confident of effecting a treaty, whether Sluys fell or not.
Was it strange that the States should be distrustful of her intentions, and, in their turn, become neglectful of their duty?
And thus summer wore into autumn, Sluys fell, the States and their governor-general were at daggers-drawn, the Netherlanders were full of distrust with regard to England, Alexander hinted doubts as to the Queen's sincerity; the secret negotiations, though fertile in suspicions, jealousies, delays, and such foul weeds, had produced no wholesome fruit, and the excellent De Loo became very much depressed.

At last a letter from Burghley relieved his drooping spirits.

From the most disturbed and melancholy man in the world, he protested, he had now become merry and quiet.

He straightway went off to the Duke of Parma, with the letter in his pocket, and translated it to him by candlelight, as he was careful to state, as an important point in his narrative.