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Updated: June 6, 2025
This was Sergeant-Major and Quartermaster Zorrillo, an excellent and popular soldier, who had been chosen Eletto after the battle of Mook- Heath, but voluntarily resigned his office at the first serious opposition he encountered. It was said that he had done this by his wife's counsel, and this woman was Ulrich's most dangerous foe.
His body did not move, but his eyes wandered from one corner of the tent to another, and the girl crossed herself and held up two fingers towards him, for his dark glance fell upon her, as he at last exclaimed, in a hollow tone: "Where is the mistress?" "Gone, I could not help it" replied the girl. "Where?" "To the Eletto, to Navarrete." "When?"
Navarrete did not forbid the plundering. According to his opinion, what soldiers took by assault was well-earned booty. To him the occupation of Aalst was an act of righteous self-defence, and the regiments shared his belief, and were pleased with their Eletto.
"With good reason," replied the Eletto. "Wait a little while, and I'll wager that you'll congratulate me more sincerely than you do to-day." The offers from Brussels had again proved unacceptable. It was necessary now to act, and the insurgent commander profited by the time at his disposal. It seemed as if "power" doubled his elasticity and energy.
"He came and took her and the child, directly after you had left the camp." "And she has not returned?" "She has just sent a roast chicken, which I was to keep for you when you came home. There it is." Zorrillo laughed. Then he turned to his companions, saying: "I thank you. You have now.... Is she still with the Eletto?" "Why, of course."
A fugitive now dashed from the counterscarp towards the Walloons, shouting: "They are here, they are here! The blood-hound, Navarrete, is leading them. They will neither eat nor drink, they say, till they dine in Paradise or Antwerp. Hark, hark! there they are!" And they were there, coming nearer and nearer; foremost of all marched the Eletto, holding the standard in his upraised hand.
"Long live the king! Long live Navarrete! Navarrete! Hurrah for Navarrete!" echoed loudly, impetuously from a thousand bearded lips. Zorrillo had no opportunity to speak again. The election was made. Ulrich was chosen Eletto. As if on wings, he went from man to man, shaking hands with his comrades. Power, power, the highest prize on earth, was attained, was his!
"You were dragged out from under your horse," said the Eletto to the knight. "You wield an excellent blade." He had spoken in Spanish, but the other shrugged his shoulders, and answered in the German language "I don't understand Spanish." "Are you a German?" Ulrich now asked in his native tongue. "How do you happen to be among the Netherland rebels?" The nobleman looked at the Eletto in surprise.
I have said everything to your father that can be urged in your defence, but he is so devoured with rage. . . ." "Santiago!" exclaimed the Eletto, bursting into sudden fury, "I need no advocate! If the old man knows what share I have taken in this war, so much the better. I'll fill up the gaps myself. I have been wherever the fight raged hottest! 'Sdeath! that is my pride!
"Long live the king! Long live Navarrete! Navarrete! Hurrah for Navarrete!" echoed loudly, impetuously from a thousand bearded lips. Zorrillo had no opportunity to speak again. The election was made. Ulrich was chosen Eletto. As if on wings, he went from man to man, shaking hands with his comrades. Power, power, the highest prize on earth, was attained, was his!
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