William clasped it; his eyes perhaps were defiant, but that was not perceived by M. de Witt.
“I will write to Your Highness every day however pressing my business——”
“You shall hear from the camp, Mynheer.”
They parted.
John de Witt sat down by his desk, one hand supporting his head the other hanging slackly by his side.
The Prince had not been gone three minutes before Agneta de Witt entered, rather breathlessly.
“Father!—who was that who has just left you?”
De Witt looked up, surprised.
“Dearest, the Prince—what is the matter?”
“Oh—nought—but I passed—him—in the hall, and he gave me a wicked look—as if he hated me—and all of us.…”