"I hope to deserve the trust," said William, "and to advise Your Grace for the peace and welfare of the States."
Margaret felt the words formal; she perceived that he could play with phrases as well as she, and that she was unlikely to gain much from him this way. While she was turning over in her mind the best way to gain him, William spoke again, using a frankness that was more subtle and more baffling than all Margaret's tortuous methods and policies.
"Your Excellency will not enforce the Inquisition?" he asked, he was looking at Margaret, but he noted the little movement the silent secretary made at his words.
"I have recommended mercy and gentleness to Peter Titelmann," replied the Regent, "and I ever beg His Majesty to use clemency towards the Netherlands."
"But you will enforce the Inquisition?" persisted the Prince.
"It cannot be supposed," answered Margaret suavely, "that the King will endure heresy among his subjects."
"It is then his intention to extirpate heresy?" asked William, and he remembered that conversation with Henry of France in the woods of Vincennes.
"An intention known to all the world," asserted Margaret. "His Majesty would rather lose his kingdoms than endure that heresy should flourish under his rule."
They were almost the same words that Granvelle had used in the gardens of La Fontaine.
"None the less," added Margaret, "His Majesty awaits the decision of the Council of Trent before proceeding severely against these wretches."