William rose also; he went to Egmont and laid his hands affectionately on the Count's shoulders.
"I do not take this action thoughtlessly nor suddenly," he said, "but after deep reflection and long weighing of events; I know I lower my fortunes and jeopardize my estates—yet I do the wiser thing. I beseech you by our ancient friendship, by our common charge, for the sake of those dear to you, to follow my example. I entreat you not to wait the coming of Alva."
But Lamoral Egmont was not to be moved. His lodestar was Spain; and now he had Mansfeld watching him and Berty noting down every word he said, his reply was curt, almost wrathful.
"I have an easy conscience; and if I have committed some faults I rely on the clemency of the King—I lean on His Majesty."
"Alas!" said William, "you lean on what will destroy you. You boast yourself secure in the King's clemency, and so lull yourself with a security which does not exist. Would that I might be deceived, but I foresee only too clearly that you are to be the bridge which the Spaniards will destroy as soon as they have passed over it to invade our country."
With that he ended, somewhat abruptly, as if he indeed saw that it was useless to try and open Egmont's eyes to his danger, and turning away picked up his mantle and hat as if to end a hopeless argument.
"You will be the ruined man, not I," remarked Egmont in some agitation; "it is you who throw everything away for a shadow!"
William moved towards the door.
"Will you not dine with us?" asked Mansfeld formally.
"Nay," replied the Prince. "I am pressed to return to Antwerp."