It seemed as if the hushed assembly became yet more utterly still.
The Prince’s face was shaded by his hat, but M. Van Odyk, a sympathetic observer, saw it was nearly as colourless as the lace round his throat. He rested his hand on the arm of the chair, and the light was caught in his square green ring and in the silver buttons on his cuff.
M. de Zuylestein leant back. He could not but feel anxious. This was the first time that the Prince had in any way expressed his opinions, or in any way spoken in public; it was the first hint of his own attitude as yet given to his partisans.
He had neither paper nor note to help him. Even M. Van Odyk had no idea what he was going to say.
With his low, slow utterance William began, fixing his brilliant eyes on the faces of the Councillors of Zeeland.
“I thank you for your speech, Mynheer Van Huybert, and you for your loyalty, my lords and gentlemen of Zeeland, a loyalty which you have maintained towards me since the day of my birth, and which no evil example nor evil fortune has caused to falter. You have done more to-day than honour me within the limits of your own State—you have had the courage to give the signal that the United Provinces await.”
He paused, as if to let the open daring of his last sentence have its full effect.
With the effort of speaking his pallor had disappeared under a faint blush; he was breathing a trifle heavily.
“If I had delayed taking possession of my office, I should have considered myself lacking in respect to your wishes. It is not in my nature to consider obstacles nor to wait on circumstance; I consider that the time has come for me to follow in the footsteps of my ancestors.”
He paused again and took off his hat, so that the light, streaming in through the windows at his left, fell full upon his face. His princely features, framed in the bright waves of his heavy hair, flushed deeper with the emotion shining in his intense eyes.