M. Bentinck sat silent, gazing at his master. He could not quite understand the Prince’s attitude.
He had never considered William as one with the United Provinces, but rather as their enemy.
What, therefore, would be his attitude in the forthcoming war?
It was against the Republic the furies of France were directed, not against William of Orange.
In the invasion of his country he might find his own advantage. He was in no way bound to the service of a State that had never placed any confidence in him but had treated him as a prisoner all his life.
His obvious policy lay in a compact with France, but so far he appeared to have rejected such overtures as had been made to him.
“I cannot see clearly how you stand, Highness,” said M. Bentinck at last, puzzled.
“No?” In no man’s company did the Prince smile so much. “My attitude is rather difficult to define, is it not, my child?”
William was three or four years younger than M. Bentinck, and half a head shorter, but the expression did not sound foolish on his lips.