“Otherwise I see no prospect of preventing the enemy crossing the Yssel.
“I entreat you to hold out a helping hand to one who is and ever will be, your affectionate friend,
“William Henry, Prince of Orange.”
M. Fagel laid the letter down in silence; he, too, was pale.
“God help us all!” he muttered.
The Grand Pensionary tore open M. Beverningh’s letter; he read it at once aloud—
“You will have heard of the disastrous passage of the Rhine—here the situation is desperate.
“I hope we have enough gunpowder—but the artillery is dismounted and almost useless; in a fortnight’s time we shall have barely seven gun-carriages.
“The Prince has displayed unheard-of activity in fortifying the river and disposing his men to the best advantage; the fatigue, the hardships of the camp, and his anxieties have had an ill effect on his health.
“I even fear for his life, though he says no word of discouragement. If reinforcements are not quickly sent he must be driven to some extremity, even to the abandonment of the Yssel.