After a while he returned to the boats and walked up and down thoughtfully.
“The youngsters will be coming to the farm,” remarked the fisherman. “They have a printing press there.”
“Ah, who are they?” asked the Prince sharply.
“Young men from the Hague—Orangists—they print pamphlets against M. de Witt—I know it—they composed that last, Advice to every Faithful Hollander—they talk big too—Jounker Van der Graef is one—and his father a magistrate!”
The child was crawling round the edge of the boat; it lifted a grave face to the Prince, who stooped and picked it up.
Twenty-five years or so afterwards, when a great king who had broken the power of France, freed England, and formed one of the hugest coalitions the world has known, famous as a statesman, glorious as a soldier, died in a palace very far from Scheveningen—his life-work done, a young fisherman amid the grief of Holland recalled with awe that William of Orange had once held him in his arms.…
William placed him gently in the boat, then turned rather sharply.
“What is that?” he asked.
Through the rise and fall of the surf might be distinctly heard the sound of approaching people, talking, and even laughing, as if they had lost their way in the mist.