William smiled at the weakness of this.
"If Philip were to send every soldier he possesses to the Netherlands to force the Inquisition and the decrees of the Council of Trent by the sword, not one of these people would change his faith."
"You speak as one too favourable to heresy," cried the Count.
"I speak as one knowing well these heretics and the power of the faith they hold."
"Would we could extirpate that cursed faith," exclaimed Egmont impatiently, "which, like a foul weed in a fair garden, has brought confusion and misery where there was order and peace!"
"Ah, you are a good Catholic," said William quietly, "and you, too, have tried to put a bridle on men's consciences and whip them to the mass—you have hanged and burned to clear heresy from Flanders—but you will never succeed, Count Egmont, and all your efforts will not save you from King Philip, loyal and pious as you are."
"You, too, are a good Catholic," answered Egmont.
"Ah, yes, I am a good Catholic," replied the Prince indifferently.
He turned aside to snuff the candles that stood on the low table by the heavy carved fireplace.
Egmont was silent; with every moment, with every word, these two, once so inseparably friends and allies, were widening the distance between each other.