Four or five months rolled on, during which Leicester had been wasting time in England, Farnese wasting none before Sluys, and the States doing their best to counteract the schemes both of their enemy and of their ally.  De Loo made a visit, in July, to the camp of the Duke of Parma, and received the warmest assurances of his pacific dispositions.  “I am much pained,” said Alexander, “with this procrastination.  I am so full of sincerity myself, that it seems to me a very strange matter, this hostile descent by Drake upon the coasts of Spain.  The result of such courses will be, that the King will end by being exasperated, and I shall be touched in my honour—­so great is the hopes I have held out of being able to secure a peace.  I have ever been and I still am most anxious for concord, from the affection I bear to her sacred Majesty.  I have been obliged, much against my will, to take the field again.  I could wish now that our negotiations might terminate before the arrival of my fresh troops, namely, 9000 Spaniards and 9000 Italians, which, with Walloons, Germans, and Lorrainers, will give me an effective total of 30,000 soldiers.  Of this I give you my word as a gentleman.  Go, then, Andrew de Loo,” continued the Duke, “write to her sacred Majesty, that I desire to make peace; and to serve her faithfully; and that I shall not change my mind, even in case of any great success, for I like to proceed rather by the ways of love than of rigour and effusion of bleed.”

“I can assure you, oh, most serene Duke,” replied Andrew, “that the most serene Queen is in the very same dispositions with yourself.”

“Excellent well then,” said the Duke, “we shall come to an agreement at once, and the sooner the deputies on both sides are appointed the better.”

A feeble proposition was then made, on the part of the peace-loving Andrew, that the hostile operations against Sluy’s should be at once terminated.  But this did not seem so clear to the most serene Duke.  He had gone to great expense in that business; and he had not built bridges, erected forts, and dug mines, only to abandon them for a few fine words, Fine words were plenty, but they raised no sieges.  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?