"By guarding your precious life, Monseigneur," replied the man simply. "The cause of freedom in the Low Countries would never survive your loss."
"Well!" retorted the Prince of Orange with a winning smile, "if that be so, then the cause of our freedom owes as much to you as it does to me. Is it the tenth time--or the twelfth--that you have saved my life?"
"Since you will not let me fight with you..."
"I'll let you do anything you wish, Messire, for you would be as fine a soldier as you are a loyal friend. But are you not content with the splendid services which you are rendering to us now? Putting aside mine own life--which mayhap is not worthless--how many times has your warning saved mine and my brother's troops from surprise attacks? How many times have Noircarmes' or don Frederic's urgent appeals for reinforcements failed, through your intervention, to reach the Duke of Alva until our own troops were able to rally? Ah, Messire, believe me! God Himself has chosen you for this work!"
"The work of a spy, Monseigneur," said the other not without a touch of bitterness.
"Nay! if you call yourself a spy, Messire, then shall the name of 'spy' be henceforth a name of glory to its wearer, synonymous with the loftiest patriotism and noblest self-sacrifice."
He held out his hand to the man with the mask, who bent his tall figure over it in dutiful respect.
"You see how well I keep to my share of the compact, Messire. Never once--even whilst we were alone--hath your name escaped my lips."
"For which act of graciousness, Monseigneur, I do offer you my humble thanks. May God guard your Highness through every peril! The cause of justice and of liberty rests in your hands."
After another deeply respectful bow he finally turned to go. He had reached the entrance of the tent when once more the Prince spoke to him.