It had also an air of self-containment that moved the Prince’s admiration; he crossed to its ring and gently stroked its head. The bird swung itself in violent agitation of some kind, dropped headlong from its perch, and with a sweep of its gay wing cast several of the letters on the bureau at William’s feet.
He stooped to pick them up; the writing on one caught his eye.
He stared at it a moment and flushed; then quickly broke it open.
It was matter of only a few lines; when he had read it he took up his hat and mantle instantly and left the room.
M. Heenvliet saw him passing hastily down the wide stairs, and could hardly credit his eyes.…
He ran after him.
But the Prince crossed the courtyard without looking back, and as M. Heenvliet gained the gate he saw the slight figure disappearing in the shadows in the direction of the Plein.
His Highness’ gentleman was utterly bewildered. As he stood irresolute, hatless, at the gate, a horseman galloped up and dismounted.
M. Heenvliet knew him for Florent Van Mander, the expected messenger from Sir Gabriel Sylvius.