It was utterly silent save for his labouring breath. M. Triglandt’s book lay open beside the light that flickered over the motto engraved between fine flourishes—
“Je sera Nassau, moi, je maintaindrai.”
CHAPTER VII
THE MANIFESTO
The Prince’s gentlemen and the knights and nobles of Zeeland were gathered in the council chamber of the Abbey, talking together in twos and threes.
The room was large and light, and barely furnished. On the wall facing the windows hung the famous blue-and-white tapestries, representing the Dutch victories over the Spanish; and on the wide-tiled hearth some logs were burning, for the day was raw and chilly and the trees without tossed against a grey sky.
Many of the younger men, richly dressed, were laughing, walking about impatiently, striking their riding-whips on their high boots and exchanging daring comments on M. de Witt.
It was to curb the impetuousness of these youthful nobles that the Princess Dowager had summoned the old Prince John Maurice from Cleves, thinking he would take her grandson under his protection; but seventy proving more timorous than seventeen William was left to manage alone the enthusiasm and recklessness of his followers.
In one of the window embrasures the Lord of Zuylestein stood conversing with M. Van Odyk, M. Heenvliet, the first gentleman-in-waiting, and M. Renswoude, the first equerry.