“Hush, my father!” the Grand Pensionary interrupted, “we cannot judge him by another’s sins.”
“We can judge him by the blood that is in him.”
“He hath been elected to lead our armies, as his fellow-servant of the State I must support him,” said John de Witt firmly. “Personal feelings must not touch politics, sir.”
Jacob de Witt’s thin hands tightened round his stick.
“Do you think that is the way he looks at it, John? If he snatches the power, will he be magnanimous to you—to any of us? He comes of a race that can hate—of a race that cannot forgive.”
The Grand Pensionary looked at his father with wide and tired eyes.
“I pray you speak words of good omen, sir,” he said softly.
The old man went on as if he did not hear—
“You have never felt the weight of a prince’s anger, you have never been cast into prison by the wrath of a tyrant.… What have we done?” his voice rose almost to a wail, “what have we done?… Nursed a viper to destroy us.…”