The Truce Saloon, built by the last Stadtholder, had been arranged as a ballroom.
This was a pleasant chamber. A row of handsome windows overlooked the Vyver, giving in summer a charming view over the water and as far as M. de Witt’s house in the Kneuterdyk Avenue; in autumn only the dim shapes of trees and the swans on the island were visible through the almost perpetual mist.
Now red velvet curtains screened the night, and a hundred wax candles gave a soft and lovely light.
It was an historic chamber also, and one that commemorated the dearly bought freedom of the Republic.
The pride of the Assembly and the fantasy of the artist had designed a symbolic decoration: circular ceiling paintings represented the different nations gazing down at the spectacle of the regained liberty of the United Provinces. A fine, warmly flushed picture of “Peace” faced the door, and above the deep fireplace its companion “War.”
In the centre of the ceiling “England” looked down, and appeared to be coming down too, since the foremost cavalier of the group had placed a red-stockinged leg outside his frame; which was good painting and better symbolism, said some sourly. Twenty years had passed, and there had begun to be reason to doubt the friendly “onlooking” of England. Her regard appeared of late to be filled with coldness and envy.
France, represented by an effeminate cavalier, had its place above the picture of “Peace.”
Every one agreed that as for symbolism this was not so good.
In the antechamber of the Truce Saloon, a fine apartment in panelled wood, the Prince found the Grand Pensionary.
With M. de Witt were M. Vivien, his brother-in-law and Pensionary of Dordt, Sir William Temple, and M. de Montbas.