She struck her breast vehemently—
“I must curse you! Are you content—at last? You hated them so.”
“This is unendurable!—I—Madame,” he pushed his hair back from his low brow,—“I am guiltless of this horror.”
“No!” she said softly, and her eyes flickered with an insane light. “They hang on a gibbet on the Plaats—what shall I wish you? You who let it be?”
She pulled at her long lace collar, staring at the Prince.
The two soldiers re-entered the dim room, and gazed at the half-seen figures in the tawny, fluttering light.
“Bentinck,” said William, “I shall be greatly shamed for this.”
Maria de Witt did not lower her dark eyes from his face.
“If you should ever love and then bear what I now bear,” she whispered,—“would that be punishment?”
The three men stood motionless.