Madame Van Beveren appeared in the door of the dining-room where she had been preparing her brother’s supper.
“Father is wounded,” said Anna de Witt.
Johanna stepped into the hall, and her eyes fell on the Grand Pensionary who supported himself against the wall.
“God have mercy on us!” she exclaimed.
She had a blue china bowl of peaches in her hands; in a mechanical way she set it down on the table where Anna had placed the lamp.
“John,”—she caught her brother by the arm,—“come upstairs.”
“I was attacked on the Vyverberg,” said the Grand Pensionary thickly. “How they hate me——”
“Anna, rouse your grandfather—the servants—send one for the physicians of the States—and M. Wilde——John, can you get upstairs?”
Anna dashed into the dining-room and rang the bell; sped upstairs and beat on Jacob de Witt’s door.