The Stadtholder of Flanders winced and flushed.
"I see no cause to mistrust the King's word," he answered obstinately. "He spoke to me graciously—with charity and kindness——"
"My poor Lamoral!" exclaimed William with a sarcasm he could not restrain, "and could a little sweetness, the false Spanish honey, so easily lure you into the net? Do you really believe in Philip's caresses, Philip's promises?"
"I have always been loyal," said Egmont. "I have never offended His Majesty."
"You have—we all have," answered William. "Do you think he has forgotten that we forced him to remove Granvelle? Do you think he has forgiven the jest of the livery?"
The Count laughed.
"Why, I have dined at the Regent's table in camlet, doublet, and the device——"
"And she has smiled and flattered. She is Philip's sister," remarked the Prince drily. "Trust none of them. The King is only waiting for his revenge."
Egmont paled a little and looked at William uneasily; he felt himself again coming under the Prince's influence, again affected by the Prince's warning; he began to entertain a horrid doubt: Philip's sincerity, if that was all a snare?—if the King was offended with him beyond appeasement?—his very soul shuddered before that possibility and what it meant.
William saw his hesitancy and spoke again—spoke earnestly and ardently as a man would to save a friend.