He continued to stand. Mynheer de Witt seated himself in a deep, Spanish leather chair facing the window, but enveloped in the hazy, golden, dusky shadows.
“It is not preoccupation hath kept me away,” said the Grand Pensionary, “but distaste to broach with you matters on which we cannot agree. Since we cannot meet as friends, Highness, it is painful to me that we must meet at all.”
“Why not as friends, Mynheer?” asked William quietly.
John de Witt looked at him steadily and mournfully.
“Because there is no friendship in your heart for me, Prince.”
“I can assure you that you mistake me—I am capable of separating the man and his office, Mynheer.”
“I am one with my office,” answered the Grand Pensionary proudly. “What I say publicly I do not abate one jot in private. Whilst this Republic chooses me as its representative I shall serve openly, and with all my power, the liberty and independence of the United Provinces—both against foreign tyranny and native ambition.”
“Is this a threat?” asked William.
“I do not use those weapons, Prince.… I have come here because I have had rumour of many things thrust upon me.… I wish to hear from your own lips what you intend to do.”
“What have you heard of me from others?” questioned William. He looked down at the floor.