The sight of the well-known slender figure, the calm earnest face, the air of authority, the immense attraction and power that the Prince possessed, sobered the reckless young nobles, the two dancing on the table were pulled down, those seated were dragged to their feet, the uproarious shouting was partly hushed.
"By Heaven this goes too far, Count!" said William, in a low voice. "The reckless things you have said to-night you will forget to-morrow when you have slept off your wine, but there are those who will not forget."
"Spies!" muttered Brederode. "Spies!"
"Among these stupid seeming lackeys, maybe," replied the Prince drily. "Why, man, you are not a fool; you know the Escorial has spies everywhere."
"I care not," said Brederode, with a certain grandeur in his recklessness; "why should we cringe to Spain's certain wrath? Nothing could bring us into favour at Madrid; let us then defy monk and Spaniard and prove we can defend our own!"
"Defiance of Spain given in this manner will be short-lived," answered the Prince. "Do you think you serve the Netherlands this way? So you only gain laughter."
"Let them laugh," returned the Count; "when the time comes they shall see I can fight as well as I can feast."
And he was seizing his replenished bowl, with the toast, "Damnation to the Inquisition and the Spaniards," forming on his lips, when William sternly took the wine from him and turned it on the floor, sending the beaker after it on to the Persian rug.
"End this, Brederode," he commanded, and his eyes shone dark with anger. "This is not a pot-house—there are some high interests in our several keepings—for the sake of these reckless boys you have brought here to-night, stop before you endanger all beyond help. Oh, Brederode," he added, with a sudden smile, "go to bed—for you are very drunk."
Brederode stared at him, suddenly laughed, then sat down silently, his glittering figure drooping back in the wide-armed chair.