“That is as you wish, Mynheer,” answered William. He had a voice naturally changeful and musical, but, like his eyes and his movements, it was controlled to a cold expressionlessness.
“I hope that it will also be your wish,” said M. de Witt, “when I tell you that it is of the affairs of Holland I desire to speak.”
“I am always at the disposal of Their High Mightinesses,” replied William, with the slightest inflection of sarcasm.
John de Witt made an open gesture with his fine right hand as if to sweep aside all formality and convention.
“It must not be like this between us, Highness,” he said, with great gentle sweetness. “Of late you have met me somewhat coldly. Why?”
William sat up slowly, his eyes were averted.
“I have often assured you, Mynheer,” he answered, “of my duty and affection. Have Their High Mightinesses anything to complain of?”
Again there was that faint stress on the pompous title.
M. de Witt regarded him steadily.