Coenraad Beuningen rose.
“I think these men have made private overtures to Your Highness,” he answered, “and you are free to take them … but … have pity on the country.” He clasped his hand passionately over his heart. “To such wretched straits are we reduced.… Ah, they tempted your ambition I doubt not, but if Your Highness would be truly great, save the United Provinces.”
“Do you believe I could?” asked the Prince breathlessly.
“Before God I believe Your Highness could.”
An extraordinary change came over the Prince’s face; he replied with vivacity—
“M. Van Beuningen, you have been a good republican—I will forgive it you for that.”
“I have been opposed to Your Highness,” said M. Beuningen, “but the time of party is over—I can see only that the country is conquered, ruined … and that our one hope is in the courage and firmness of Your Highness.”
He went restlessly to the window and put his hand before his eyes.
William gazed at him, still with that expression of animation and pleasure.