"M. le Marquis," he said, "you will do me one more service—you will write to His Majesty that his suspicions are quite unfounded, that my preparations, you are assured, are against Denmark, and that no credit is to be given to the tales of M. Skelton and M. D'Avaux about M. de Sunderland."
The Ambassador's face became absolutely blanched; he moistened his lips, and murmured, "I dare not—I dare not," between dry breaths.
"You dare not refuse," answered William. "I could so expose you that not a court in Europe would employ you. Besides, it is enough that I command you. Sit down and write."
- D'Albeville came slowly nearer the table.
"I would do anything to serve Your Highness, but not this—it is too late—it has gone too far——"
"Write," said the Stadtholder briefly. "I pay well, you know that."
M. D'Albeville sat down in the chair opposite the paper and standish.
"But His Majesty will learn from others, and I shall be recalled and" ... he complained miserably ... "death ... treason is death. Oh, my God, I cannot do——"
"M. le Marquis," interrupted William, "His Majesty is simple enough to trust you, and for the rest I protect those whom I use."
M. D'Albeville shivered and took up the pen. He had, and knew it, no chance with the Prince, whose potent personality always completely mastered his. He dared not, from some sheer unnameable fear, refuse or resist, but the damp stood on his brow and his heart was cramped at the thought of the possible vengeance of the master whom he was betraying.