He wore a dove-coloured suit and a black sash, a pink velvet mantle and a beaver with black feathers; there was a gold ribbon on his cane and gold cords on his right shoulder. M. Fagel was speaking to him, and he listened unsmilingly.
At the head of the stairs he paused and glanced round the people gathered to meet him.
Instantly his eye fell on John de Witt and he blushed violently.
He said nothing, but raised his hat. M. de Witt did the same, and those about them were silent.
“Highness,” said John de Witt calmly, “will it please you to grant me speech with you?”
The red still lingered in William’s cheek. He hesitated; a slight thing in most, in him, always so decided, a marked one.
M. Fagel fell back.
“I am glad to see you, Mynheer,” said the Stadtholder. He seemed very mindful of the spectators. “Will you go into the cabinet … perhaps you do not know it.…”
He moved forward and opened the door on his left.
John de Witt followed him. The others, even William Bentinck, remained without.