Now the Secretary looked at him defiantly and rose, resting one hand on the table between them.
“Well, Mynheer, the Republic hath before this been reduced to even greater extremities, and by God’s help been saved—if He saved us from the tyranny of Philip, surely He will preserve us from the tyranny of Louis.”
“God gave our ancestors the courage and resource to save themselves, M. Fagel.… I do not see these virtues among us now.”
“Would you despair of the vessel before she is on the rocks?” cried Gaspard Fagel stoutly. But in his heart he was frightened; never before had he known John de Witt speak despondently. “For my part,” he added, “I will do anything in my power to bring her safe to port.”
“Then you will help me?” John de Witt spoke eagerly.
“I do not know—I do not know.… What do you intend doing?”
M. Fagel took a hasty turn about the room, his hands clasped behind him under the blue dressing-gown.
“I intend to propose in the Assembly that envoys be at once sent to the King of France to request his terms, and to offer him everything so that we keep our final liberty.”
“Have you no trust in the Prince?” demanded the Secretary, trying to hearten himself into a confidence he could not feel.