The sun had moved, so that it fell across the centre of the floor in a heavy beam of gold, leaving the Prince in shadow.
“I think that, the war budget having been passed a year ago, the country should be in a better condition to resist invasion,” he said at length. “The people are taxed almost beyond endurance; two forced loans have been raised, and both the land and sea forces are wretchedly inadequate. I do not know who is responsible for these things, Mynheer.”
He coughed, and looked sideways at the red tulip.
“You take something on yourself, Highness,” returned John de Witt, “to say this to my face; it is an indictment.”
“I am not in a position to criticise you, Mynheer,” answered the Prince, and the scornful curve to his mouth was now noticeable beyond mistake. “Since I have no share in the government, these things are no affair of mine—but M. Fagel brought me your book——”
M. de Witt was betrayed into hot speech—
“Gaspard Fagel fawns on you.…”
“I think he wishes to serve me,” returned William quietly. “You taught me finance—and some other things—and I have applied your lessons to your practice—for my own instruction, Mynheer.”
John de Witt looked at him curiously.
“I do not quite understand Your Highness.”