"If that be so," replied the Earl, "we and the United Provinces are lost, and King Louis will triumph after all, yea, after all the toil, and loss, and patience, and endeavour, France will triumph over Europe. Your Majesty had better not have flung the gauntlet in '72—better to have bowed to France then than submit now."
The King seemed disturbed; he laid the plans of Greenwich down and moved his hands restlessly.
"I am not fit for—anything," he muttered. "I am not capable of military command—there are others—I have been at this work twenty years—let some other take it up——"
"There is no other," said Sunderland. "This is Your Majesty's task, and no one else can undertake it."
The King looked round in a desperate fashion; he saw the three men at the other end of the room.
"Why do you come bating me?" he asked. "I tell you there is nothing more in me"—he laid his hand on his heart—"all is dead—here."
A sudden violent cough shook him; he gasped with pain.
"In a few months I shall be with her," he added, and his voice was so weak and shaken that Sunderland could scarcely catch the words.
"Doth not Your Majesty believe in predestination?"
William was silent.