“There seems some hope in England,” said William slowly.
“Certainly,” answered M. Sylvius, “it is in a state of unrest. The King hath shut up the Exchequer, thereby ruining many of the merchants, and yet vast sums are spent at Court and on that foreign woman, Louise de la Querouaille, who came over with the late Duchess d’Orleans and is no better than a spy of France. The Duke of York is unpopular, like his mother before him; and rumours are abroad that the King, to please the King of France, is a concealed Papist—which is the truth—and that the great lords are all in the pay of France.”
“Which is also the truth, it seems,” remarked the Prince.
“Yet the King has an easy way of agreeableness that keeps him where he is, and he is very prodigal of promises, and hath managed to smooth many an ill-seeming situation by his fair manners. I doubt his sincerity, certainly, in what he said to me—yet I hope the English may force him——”
“Into breaking with France?”
“I may hope so, Highness.”
The Prince looked at him keenly.
“But at the moment—what will my uncle do now?”
“Sir, in this I have been a trifle successful. His Majesty was so far moved by your appeals that he has appointed certain envoys who will come over and look after your interests during the war. They are accredited to you, to the States, and to King Louis, and their errand is to conclude a peace satisfactory to all.”