John de Witt paled as he gazed at the large, familiar handwriting.
A sickly hue of dawn was mingled with the glow of the candles, and in the cross lights the figure of the Grand Pensionary showed tall and sombre in his black velvet mantle, his worn face near as colourless as his crumpled white collar.
Gaspard Fagel went to the handsome oak buffet and, pouring wine into a tall green glass, drank fiercely.
M. de Witt stepped nearer to the candles and broke open the seals of the Prince’s letter. There were only a few lines.
The Grand Pensionary read them and handed them in silence to the Secretary.
“Given at my camp on the Yssel
June 12, 1672
“Sir,—I am in great distress, learning the approach of the enemy and having only insufficient forces to oppose to him.
“My authority is restricted and my movements hampered by the delegates, who forbid me to risk a battle.
“The militia and the peasants are in a state of terror at the advance of the French; the division available for the defence of the Yssel is only 22,000 men, so I must beg you to order without an hour’s delay that as many soldiers as possible be sent from Maestricht, Bois-le-duc, Breda, Bergen-op-Zoom, and the other strong places in Flanders.
“I think also that the few horse and foot which are still in Holland should be sent here.