“You yourself assure me of your opposition to my claims,” said the Prince. “You yourself tell me that you have withdrawn your promise in the matter of the Council of State.”
“And I have told you why: because I uphold this Republic, because I must serve what I have sworn to serve, because I cannot, on my conscience, sacrifice the liberty of many to the aggrandisement of one—because I am opposed to princely power. But this does not leave me, Highness, the less your friend.”
William was silent.
The shadows had so encroached on them that they could hardly see each other. M. de Witt himself lit the candles and placed them on the mantelshelf, where they were reflected in the tortoiseshell-framed mirror.
As the steady light filled the chamber the Grand Pensionary looked down at the Prince.
“Do you not understand,” he said, “my position, what I must, and what I shall do?”
“I understand,” answered William, “what I can not do, Mynheer.”
“I have angered you, Highness.” John de Witt spoke gently. “It is against my will—I would serve you any way I could—I would forget the unruly spirit you have shown. Is it not possible there might yet be confidence between us?”
The Prince replied as abruptly as irrelevantly—