“Your duty!” he repeated. “Your duty, M. le Comte!”
Then he turned on his heel and passed into the ballroom.
M. de Montbas, flushing hotly, looked at M. de Witt, and the Grand Pensionary frowned.
It fell to Sir William’s easy tact to break the pause.
“I think the dance has come to an end, sir; are we too grave to attend the ladies?”
Secretly he admired the Prince; and his admiration grew with his observation. His eyes twinkled now with enjoyment of M. de Montbas’ discomfiture. M. de Witt was quick enough to see where his sympathies lay, but he accepted the diversion of Sir William’s remark, for the Prince’s daring could not be publicly noticed.
M. de Witt, composed in mien but with a troubled heart, followed into the ballroom.
Most noticeable as he entered was the figure of the young man in the long violet coat, his bright, heavy hair glittering like copper in the candlelight.
He was speaking to the Princess Dowager; above them glowed the picture of “Peace.”
“Your charge troubles you, Mynheer?” said Sir William in his soft, lazy voice, after watching de Witt a moment.