The usher, entering to say that the Grand Pensionary and M. Dyckfelt were without, interrupted him, and the Princess, pale and grave again, said hastily—
"I will go—but I shall be in the withdrawing-room when they have gone——"
She waited till William had dismissed the usher, then added, in a tremble—
"—You will let me know what you have decided? I could not sleep else," she added piteously.
He held out his hand and drew her up to him.
"Child," he said earnestly, "'tis already decided; 'tis only the means to be discussed—and those thou shalt hear at once."
He patted her hand and let her go. With a kind of wild gaiety she caught up her sewing silks. She was laughing, but it was a laughter more desperate than her gravity. She did not look at the Prince again, but hurried from the room, a gleam of satins in the sombre setting.
The Prince looked after her, then picked up the two letters from England.
CHAPTER VIII
THE POLICY OF THE PRINCE