His face wore its least pleasant expression as he entered his Palace thinking of these things.
Mr. Bromley was silent, as always when his master seemed in one of his coldly cynical moods. The Prince was usually in a sardonic humour after he had been openly acclaimed by the crowd; it pointed, perhaps, the difference between his actual position and the one he should have filled.
M. Bentinck was abroad, taking farewell of friends; he was to accompany the Prince to the front.
William dined alone.
Afterwards he wrote a brief but kind letter to the Princess Dowager, and one to Cornelius Triglandt at Arnheim.
He gave these for dispatch to Mr. Bromley, who was wandering about the dreary Palace between excitement and depression.
It was now about half-past eight.
William dismissed him.
“We leave at six to-morrow morning——”
“So early, Highness?”