“Never!” he said firmly, “never.…”
The Prince was still standing, his hand resting on the back of his chair and his eyes cast down. His very quiet conveyed a passion and a determination that John de Witt felt meeting his own firm resolve, iron striking iron, the unyielding strength of two opposed natures brought into contest.
“Mynheer,” said William, “there are those desirous of obtaining me this appointment—I have, as you say, some friends in the Assembly——”
Between them fell the gold bar of sunshine, dancing with a million motes. Each saw the other beyond it, in a haze of dusky shadow.
“You intend to push the matter to extremes?” asked John de Witt.
Their eyes met.
“Have you come to request me not to?” returned William, with meaning.
John de Witt coloured at the tone.
“No, Highness,” he answered proudly. “I will request of you nothing.”