“What can one expect from a woman?” returned the Prince in a tone of quiet but boundless contempt. “I thank God I can take my affairs into my own hands,”—uncontrollable annoyance clouded his face,—“but for her I had never lost Orange—and my estates have been utterly mismanaged, it will be a month’s work straightening her accounts; the land hath been left unsold and I have as many debts as a captain of cavalry——”
He checked himself with his habitual distrust, as if he repented already of such a long speech, and rose, taking up the candle.
M. Van Odyk accepted his dismissal.
“I need not have disturbed Your Highness,” he said, rising.
“It is no matter,” answered the Prince, with a little cough.
Lange Jan struck, but neither noticed how his noisy chimes broke the stillness of the night, for each had heard such peals ringing out over the Seven Provinces every hour of every day and night since they could remember anything.
The Lord of Beverwaert took the candle from the Prince and opened the door.
“I forgot to tell Your Highness, a man came here—from the Hague. He desired to see you, but the crowd made it impossible. He wished to join your service. I do not think that it was a matter of any importance.”
“Who was he?” asked William, holding his brow.
“One Florent Van Mander, who has been with M. de Witt.”