Basilea rose; the sunshine was over her curls and blue dress, and shook a red light from the garnets at her wrist; her eyes narrowed; she was interested by this clear talk of important events.
"What could the Prince do?" she asked quietly.
- D'Avaux replied with some passion.
"This is the tenth year of the uneasy peace forced on His Highness by His Majesty and the late King Charles, and not a month of that time that he hath not been working to be avenged on us for the terms we obtained then—he hath combined powers in secret leagues against us, he hath vexed and defied us at every turn, and he hath never, for one moment, ceased to intrigue for the help of England against us—in some final issue."
"But England," said Basilea quickly, "is entirely bound to France——"
"Yes; and because of that, and because the Prince of Orange knoweth it, King James is in a desperate strait——"
"Why?"
"Madame, I know the Prince tolerably well—he never relinquishes any idea that hath a firm hold on his mind, and what he cannot accomplish by diplomacy he will assay by force."
"By force!" echoed Basilea, staring at the Ambassador.
He came a little nearer to her and lowered his voice.