The perpetual chimes announced nine o’clock and the Prince entered accompanied by Mr. Bromley.
He saluted all of them, and advanced with an outstretched hand to M. de Zuylestein, who had once possessed his entire confidence, and though the years of separation had weakened the friendship between them, William was still gracious.
“Did you sleep well, Highness?” asked M. de Zuylestein, who only unbent his haughty manner to the Prince.
“As usual, Mynheer.” He pulled his gloves from his sword-belt and slowly drew them on.
It was noticeable that he used no arts to ingratiate himself with his supporters. His manner was distant and reserved, he hardly glanced at those about him. Under his heavy black beaver his face showed composed and inscrutable.
At his entry all had fallen silent, and all, more or less openly, were observing him.
“I missed the clock.” He took out his watch. “A little after nine. M. de Zuylestein, I should like to see the church.”
“Will Your Highness go down now?”
“Yes.”