“Save you and I.” He came farther into the room. “Why do you sit up, Mynheer Van Mander?”
Florent coloured.
“I—could not sleep to-night.”
William looked at him sharply.
“What are you doing?”
“Copying some letters M. Bentinck gave me, Highness.”
“Well, finish them.”
The Prince crossed to the far end of the room, held his light up to the bookshelves and took down the volume—a Latin work on tactics—that he sought.
“I have finished, Highness,” said Florent in a humble voice. He fixed his eyes ardently and half pleadingly on the Prince.
William turned, with the book in his hand, and looked at him.