The Grand Pensionary closed the door, and the Prince descended the steps. As he turned his back on M. de Witt’s house his eyes narrowed as if he looked at something a long way off.
“Well, Your Highness?” asked Mr. Bromley, who was rather cold but still good-humoured.
William mounted without touching the stirrup, and gathered up the reins.
“He is iron,” he said; “I could not do anything nor even attempt it. How much longer?” he added in a sombre passion, “how much longer?”
They trotted the horses briskly through the cobbled streets.
“M. de Chapuygeau and M. Bornius are not coming back; I have at least two masters the less,” remarked the Prince, with a gloomy satisfaction.
“I am glad, Highness,” answered Mr. Bromley, who hated these two. “And M. Van Ghent?”
“He stays—I could not speak against him.”
“Did M. de Witt mention his secretary who came to join you at Middelburg?”