“Your Highness,” began Sir Gabriel, “I bring to you the final conditions of peace of the Kings of France and England.”
He handed the Prince a letter.
“I would advise Your Highness not to look at it till you have dined—I fear it will not please you.”
William swept a glance over the assembled faces, then tore open the envelope.
It contained a letter from the two English Ministers, and a copy of a treaty recently drawn up at Heeswyck between Charles and Louis, in which the two monarchs agreed to press their demands in concert and not to enter into any separate treaty with the Republic, whom they thus hoped to reduce to extremity.
Turning from this document, which destroyed all his hopes of detaching Charles from the French alliance, William cast his eyes over the Articles of Peace.
They stood the same as before, save that to the haughty demands of France were added the immoderate claims of England.
A passionate colour rushed into the young Stadtholder’s thin cheek.
He gave a stifled exclamation, and for a second it seemed as if he would tear the papers across and fling them in the face of the envoys who had brought them.