“Perfectly, Your Highness.”
“Well”—the Prince, having finished with his gloves, removed his cane from under his arm and tapped the baluster—“I now advise you to leave the Hague.”
M. de Groot was undaunted.
“I am aware that Your Highness blames me for the terms of peace I brought from the King of France—I would rather die than accept them—but as an ambassador it was my bare duty to carry them to Their Noble Mightinesses—who had sent me.”
“M. de Groot,” replied the Prince unpleasantly, “we will have no discussion, if you please. Again—I should recommend the Spanish Netherlands.”
M. Fagel moved instinctively a step aside, but Peter de Groot stood his ground. He saw himself a fallen man, a ruined man, and a slow paleness overspread his countenance, but there was no alteration in his proud demeanour.
Followed by Mynheer Fagel, William III. turned away without a salute, and, with the curtest acknowledgment of the councillors and nobles gathered about him, passed out into the courtyard of the Binnenhof.
It was too late to return to the camp, against his will he found himself obliged to stay overnight at the Hague.
His own Palace being closed, William was lodged in the splendid house, almost adjoining the Binnenhof, where Prince John Maurice had gathered all the treasures collected in his travels.