“The country hath been ungrateful, Prince.”
His smile made her air of sympathy seem foolish.
“You think so?” he said.
She was piqued by his sovereign manner.
“Do not you, Monseigneur?” she retaliated with meaning.
“I think it remains to be proved, Madame la Duchesse.”
They stood by the open hearth, waiting for the dance to begin. She was very well aware of the curious eyes upon them, and of the cold regard of the Grand Pensionary.
The Prince appeared absolutely unconscious.
“M. de Witt does not dance, I see,” she remarked.
“He hath other things to think of, Madame.”