William blushed hotly at that last epithet, and for once the effort at control showed. He was silent because he did not trust himself to speak.
“I put before you,” continued John de Witt, “the state of the country. I asked you to dissociate yourself from the faction that used your name. You evaded my frankness, you deceived my trust; while you assumed docility you were planning to raise the standard of revolt. While I was teaching you your duty to God and your country you were secretly nursing selfish, ambitious, and dangerous designs. In a word,” he made a disdainful gesture with his hand, “you deceived me.”
The Prince made a movement that tossed his violet mantle back from his shoulders.
“I have never given you my word on any matter on which I have broken it,” he said in a low voice, “nor used fair speeches. My behaviour has been what you might have looked for from a State prisoner. I have said I am grateful to you for your care, M. de Witt; I repeat it, you have my duty and my friendship.”
“What duty or friendship was it that played this stroke?” asked the Grand Pensionary.
William raised his brilliant eyes.
“I was within the law, Mynheer. That I went to claim my father’s private titles has nothing to do with affairs of State.”
“Your visit had a political complexion.”
“Who has so represented it to you? Any lord visiting his fief would receive the welcome Zeeland gave me. I could not imagine that the friendliness of people long devoted to my House could cause uneasiness to the Government.”