Florent smiled bitterly.
Yet he told himself that only a fool would act otherwise.… Since the country was lost one must snatch what might be from the wreck. Yet … yet … however … the Prince did it very well.…
“Annibal erit brevi ad portas” he had said, and as if the danger touched him nearly.
Florent turned restlessly from the window as William re-entered from the inner chamber.
Under his pink mantle he wore black armour, and he held under his arm his helmet, mounted with a black feather.
His sword was strapped to his waist, and he supported it with his right hand.
His bright hair and his pale face were in curious contrast with the dull, shining mail. He placed his steel gauntlets and his helmet down on a chair and crossed to the desk, taking up the papers Florent had left there ready for him.
“Go and see if M. Bentinck is abroad,” he commanded, and he unfolded the plan of the line of the Yssel and gazed at it.
Florent left the room, to return almost immediately with M. Bentinck, who had slept well all night and was as gay as if he were starting for a hunt in Guelders.
William gave him a charming smile and rolled up the map.