The Prince turned back to his writing-table and took up his pen.
For himself, what was this step going to cost?
Gradually the old magnificent life had changed, the splendid young noble had become the grave man of affairs. Still not much over thirty, and endowed with a warm and joyous temperament, used to wealth and power, pleasure and luxury, he found himself about to take up a position in which all these things must be foregone.
Looking back over the brief years since his second marriage, he saw how slow, how subtle had been this change in himself and in his surroundings; looking ahead, he saw that the coming change would be marked and swift—and terrible.
He smiled as he retailed the jousts, the tourneys, the feasts, the hunts, the dances—those days were over.
It had been a silent, secret struggle between him and Philip ever since that monarch had left the Netherlands.
But now it would be secret and silent no longer.
The Prince flung down his gage to the King.
Mending his quill and drawing a sheet of paper towards him, he wrote to Madame Parma returning the oath, and resigning all his offices.