"Your friends could find no nobler name," answered Rénèe.
She stood erect, gazing at him, and the joy and terror she had in his presence and her intense love for her country and her faith fired her beauty with an ardent life that made her glow like a brilliant flower.
All her lovelinesses, always neglected and ignored, were suddenly triumphant.
"If Your Highness would but listen to the cries of the poor Netherlanders!" she said. "They say you would have followed Count Egmont if he had raised his standard for the people—will you not go on alone?"
"Against Philip?" William smiled. "Child, you think too much of politics. When we are in Germany I will find you a husband who will relieve you from this stern service."
She turned away wistfully.
"I am always overbold," she murmured; "it is my folly."
The Prince touched her lightly on the shoulder. "Hold up your heart. I, too, love the Netherlands and hope to serve them. And maybe I might accomplish something—even against Spain. God guides it all, surely."
He left her, and Rénèe went on with her task, selecting, folding, putting away; the little German girl came to help her, and two others of the Princess's women went to and fro the long suite of apartments with clothes and caskets in their hands.
The dusk fell, the candles were lit; the Ave Maria rose from the great church of Breda, the dark closed in, and the shutters were fastened over the spring night, and still the preparations for departure went on from garret to cellar.