"Well, pretty friend," he continued, seeming not ill pleased, "wouldst have me thus armed? 'T is true—in your ear—I purpose using English swords against such good English fellows as come not over to our side. But what of these hordes of Irish kerns, with Tyrconnel and Sarsfield at their head? Surely on these we poor Dutchmen may flesh our blades; and when the time comes, is it with this you would have me fight?"
Now, while the Prince did tease me with the sight of his broken blade, and while I felt for words to clothe the thought in me, I marked that M. de Rondiniacque, as one taking time by the forelock upon a signal long expected, went hurriedly out from the hall, a circumstance that I had speedily forgot but for its sequel. Meantime I had inwardly breathed a little prayer to God for the gift of a prevailing tongue, and now drew from my bosom that seven inches of pointed steel that I purposed selling at so great a price.
"Your Highness," I said, "this kind of iron is sold mighty dear. Ah, will a great Prince have a poor maid that is his true servant wed with a man unhappy all his days? And yet a man so true, did Your Highness know him as I have known him for many, many years? As he and I rode hither in the smallest hours of this very day, it was a broken man at my side—a man whose one half would rejoice for his company, while the other part of him cried out for his Leader, his Prince, his King. And, woman-like, I upbraided you sore, finding in my passion of pity no word too bitter for you, sir. But from him there fell no word of blame, for no hard thought of you did cross his mind. Your Highness, he tried to serve two masters, indeed, but himself was never one of them. If he did ill, it was for me—me that he loved since his arms were my childhood's harbor of refuge, his shoulder my horse that tired not. For that part of your sword that you hold, you gave me his life. For this part that I have kept, where I hope all the days of my life to keep his honor, give me his old rank in your service—and ever, during his desert, his old favor in those eyes that, when they will, can read so deep."
The Prince gazed at me a while, and his face grew somehow to a softness that is seldom, I think, observed upon it. And, as we looked upon each other, there was a little bustle at the door, made, I doubt not, by M. de Rondiniacque's return.
"Give it me, child," said William, and I handed him, without further doubt of his purpose, the remnant of his pledge.
"Why so ready, mistress?" asked His Highness. "I have granted naught."
"Nay," I replied, "but love can read deep, even as the eyes of a prince."
"In this world, my child," he said, speaking still with that gentleness I had marked in his face, "there is no going back. But, if Mr. Bentinck will fill us out a major's brevet for Mr. Edward Royston, will that serve to balance the uneven division of last night, sir, or madam?"
Upon which the joy in my heart was so near to seeking its relief in tears that I had much ado to answer him.
"I do thank Your Highness," I murmured, "beyond all telling." And then, finding a better voice, I continued: "And, if it please Your Highness, I will be always madam."