William looked round; his face was colourless, and he held himself as if exhausted.
“Mynheer,” he said, speaking with something of an effort, “I do not know why you think I am occupied in stirring up sedition in the State. You know how I spend every moment of my time; I have no opportunity nor—desire. I am your very good friend and the servant of Their Noble Mightinesses.… I have, obviously, no influence with the party that you speak of. As for my uncle and my cousin of France, they do not make me their confidant … not counting me, doubtless, of sufficient importance.”
John de Witt looked him in the eyes with a deep, questioning glance.
“Have I satisfied you, Mynheer?” asked the Prince courteously.
The Grand Pensionary could press no further. He was half baffled, half angered; yet he found himself remembering that this Prince, who was behaving so like a veteran diplomat, was in fact only a boy, often ill and lonely.
“I came with no suspicions,” he said. “Only to put before you, Highness, something of the state of the Republic and to ask your help——”
“If I can ever be of service I shall be glad,” answered William. He looked up, and added abruptly, “Mynheer de Witt, might Mynheer Cornelius Triglandt come back?—I would rather have him for my chaplain than any man I know.”
M. de Witt was taken by surprise, but he had his reply ready.
“M. Triglandt was removed from your person for the same reason as M. Zuylestein,” he said gently. “He hath an unruly tongue and a heart disloyal to the Republic. Their High Mightinesses could not allow his return. If you esteemed him, I am sorry.”