What would the Prince give for the contents of the private desk of M. de Witt?
Florent did not want money—but he craved to stand for something—to be of value—to merit consideration in the eyes of this young man who had suddenly unfurled the Orange standard.
And what had he to offer but the poor services any clerk could give?
Still he hesitated; but that same recollection that filled him with hot desire to serve William of Orange held him back. Thinking of William of Orange, he could not do it.
He locked the desk and went into the outer room to give the key to M. Van den Bosch.
The clerks of M. de Witt were discussing the situation in a subdued agitation. Florent tendered the key, half defiantly.
“Are you leaving?” asked M. Bacherus, with a look of surprise on his wrinkled face.
Florent answered briefly, and took his hat and cloak down from a peg.
“What do you think of this news from Zeeland?” asked Van Ouvenaller, adjusting his spectacles.
“I am sorry for M. de Witt,” returned Florent dryly.