The pleasant glow of the burning logs played over his blunt-featured, well-looking face, his handsome grey silk dress, braided in gold, his embroidered baldric, his high boots and massive sword-hilt. He was a large and weighty man, of a demeanour more passionate and impatient than his brother.
“You must remember I always distrusted this pupil of yours,” he said slowly. “Have we not had enough difficulty, at home and abroad, that you must nurse this viper to sting you on your own hearth?”
John de Witt moved to the other side of the fireplace.
“He is very young.”
The Ruard glanced up.
“Ah, still you make excuses for him.”
“I endeavour to be just, brother,” answered the Grand Pensionary. “This young man hath fooled me, I confess it. I have done all in my power to prevent this mistake of mine proving of danger to the State——”
“Do not imagine that I reproach you,” put in Cornelius quickly.
His brother faintly smiled.