He was a handsome man, whose refined, agreeable features, of the true Netherland type, expressed anything rather than severity.
"If you speak to me in this tone, we shall come to an agreement more easily," he answered, smiling.

"I will only say this.

Had the brawl arisen in sport, or from some boyish quarrel, I wouldn't have wasted a word on the matter--but that children already venture to assail with jeers and violence those who hold different opinions, ought not to be permitted to pass without reproof.

The boys shouted after my son the absurd word--" "It is certainly an insult," interrupted Van der Werff, "a very disagreeable name, that our people bestow on the enemies of their liberty." The baron rose, angrily confronting the other.
"Who tells you," he cried, striking his broad breast, padded with silken puffs, "who tells you that we grudge Holland her liberty?
We desire, just as earnestly as you, to win it back to the States, but by other, straighter paths than Orange--" "I cannot test here whether your paths are crooked or straight," retorted Van der Werff; "but I do know this--they are labyrinths." "They will lead to the heart of Philip, our king and yours." "Yes, if he only had what we in Holland call a heart," replied the other, smiling bitterly; but Wibisma threw his head back vehemently, exclaiming reproachfully: "Sir Burgomaster, you are speaking of the anointed Prince to whom I have sworn fealty." "Baron Matanesse," replied Van der Werff, in a tone of deep earnestness, as he drew himself up to his full height, folded his arms, and looked the nobleman sharply in the eye, "I speak rather of the tyrant, whose bloody council declared all who bore the Netherland name, and you among us, criminals worthy of death; who, through his destroying devil, Alva, burned, beheaded, and hung thousands of honest men, robbed and exiled from the country thousands of others, I speak of the profligate--" "Enough!" cried the knight, clenching the hilt of his sword.

"Who gives you the right--" "Who gives me the right to speak so bitterly, you would ask ?" interrupted Peter Van der Werff, meeting the nobleman's eyes with a gloomy glance.