“I know,” continued the other, remarking it, “that you have come to His Highness, but I think that you may safely speak to me.”
“My errand is no secret,” said Florent, but still half reluctantly.
The representative of Holland smiled.
“And I am in the Prince’s confidence.”
He crossed slowly to a beeswaxed table by the window that held his handsome writing-case and silver ink-horn, and seated himself in a rush-bottomed chair.
“It comes to this.” Van Mander spoke with sudden bluntness. “M. de Witt heard of the passage of the Rhine. ‘Half the Republic is lost!’ he cried when they told him Wesel had fallen—this, for all his self-control … and the next day in council he induced Their High Mightinesses to send an embassy to the King of France.”
“Hah!” exclaimed Jerome Beverningh, stroking his chin.
In some subtle way Florent was encouraged to speak openly; the touch of sullenness left his manner.
“M. Fagel was won over—M. de Witt carried everything before him—no one dare resist him in face of the advance of the French. M. Van Ghent, M. de Groot, and M. Van Odyk are being sent to King Louis——”
“And M. Fagel sent you on an attempt to justify himself to the Prince?” remarked Jerome Beverningh shrewdly.