“Nay, Sir, not without you.”
Now William spoke with authority—
“Bentinck, I will see this man alone … in a while I will join you.”
Grimacing a little, and with a clatter of his armour, M. Bentinck left the tent.
The Prince turned up the lamp, set it carefully on the table, and walked up and down, keeping his gaze upon the ground.
When the flap was lifted and a man entered, hesitating, William stopped where he was by the table and raised his eyes.
M. de Montbas was magnificently dressed. Over his blue and silver coat he wore, falling off one shoulder and fastened across his breast with a gilt chain, a green velvet cloak.
There were jewels in his cravat and holding the blue feather in his beaver. He wore a very handsome sword, and kept his light-gloved hand on it.
He was a fine man, if somewhat haggard; but now a white look on his face, and his black eyes startled, joined to his air of hesitation, took from him his dignity.
He uncovered and bowed.