“It is no trifling affair, Mynheer,” answered William, “to find myself on every hand ill served.”
“That is not just, Highness.”
The Lord of Heenvliet was forcing back his temper.
William flung the gloves down on a chair.
“I do not intend to wear them, Mynheer, either to-night or any other time.”
M. Heenvliet bit his lip and turned to the valet. “Bring His Highness another pair of gloves.” He pulled out his watch impatiently, “We are already late.”
The Prince gave him a malicious look, and half smiled; to arrive late would be to solve the ugly question of precedence and would also mean a slight to M. de Witt.
“It is your place, Mynheer,” he answered, “to see that I am better furnished.”
He had never liked M. Heenvliet, who leant to the side of the Grand Pensionary.