“But these men?” asked M. Beverningh.
“I will go and speak to them,” said the Prince quietly.
“Your Highness has done enough,” protested William Bentinck.
“I do what it would seem there is no one else to do,” was the answer.
He picked up his cloak from the window-seat and flung it over his tattered uniform.
“Have you no lantern?” he asked the officer.
“Sir, the moon is up.”
M. Bentinck, with an impatient look at M. Zuylestein, who was still very contentedly asleep, made ready to accompany the Prince, and the three started out through the encampment.
The wind had dropped, sweeping away the clouds with it, and a full moon was high in the dark sky.
Tents had now been rigged up here and there; several men were moving about with lanterns, many sleeping on the ground; under a little grove of alders a row of horses were tied, beyond them could be distinguished the gaunt shapes of waggons and guns.