He took out another quill, mended it, and glanced again out of the window.
The Grand Pensionary and Sir William had been joined by Agneta de Witt—a pale, graceful, fragile-looking child—and Cornelia Van Bicker, the mistress of the house.
Looking at these ladies moving under the shifting, pale shadows of the trees, the young man’s rather hard eyes softened. He had the Dutchman’s intense respect for domestic affections, and to think of the recent death of Wendela de Witt moved him. He had never seen her, but he knew that she had been good and gentle, patient and adoring, like her daughter Agneta, and he guessed at the great loneliness that her loss had left in the heart of John de Witt. He thought of it whenever he saw her sister, Cornelia Van Bicker, or one of her quiet, sweet-voiced children.
As he watched, the little party turned towards the house, Sir William in his blue-and-gold velvet ruffled with ribbon, his heavy curls falling round his handsome face, walking beside the Grand Pensionary, who had no relief to his black garments save his broad linen collar, and between them the little figure of Agneta in her white gown and prim cap, holding herself soberly, while before them moved the sister of Wendela de Witt, self-contained, plainly dressed, with the fading, changing, sunlight flickering over her dark dress.
Florent Van Mander returned to the letter he was copying, for he observed the Grand Pensionary was leaving the others and returning to the library.
When M. de Witt opened the window and entered, he rose, waiting his instructions.
“I have finished these documents, Mynheer,” he said, pointing to some papers given him by another secretary. “Van Ouvenaller thought they should be copied in case you care to submit them to Their High Mightinesses.”
“What are they?” asked John de Witt. He always spoke gently and courteously; to-night Van Mander found himself noticing it.
“Letters from the Provinces, Mynheer,” he answered, “dealing with the riots in the name of the Prince of Orange——”
“Ah, that.” The Grand Pensionary frowned thoughtfully. “The burgomasters should be able to deal with it.”