Читать книгу I Will Maintain - Bowen Marjorie - Страница 12

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“Where is the Prince now?” asked Cornelius de Witt.

“At Honsholredyck, once his mother’s house. He will not return directly to the Hague for fear of my authority.”

The Grand Pensionary stood at the window of his residence in the Kneuterdyk Avenue and looked, as he spoke, out at the colourless afternoon.

“But this will bring him,” replied the Ruard grimly. He referred to the skilful measure his brother had taken. On receiving the news from Zeeland, the Grand Pensionary had forced the Assembly to pass a law forbidding individual provinces to reinstate the Stadtholdership without the sanction of the other States, and confirming M. de Montbas in his appointment as Captain General.

“Maybe. He hath discovered a stubborn disposition that makes it difficult to know what he will do. He hath sent his valet to Professor Bornius and M. de Chapuygeau, dispensing with their services.”

“This is impudence,” frowned Cornelius. “He hath no right to dismiss his tutors when he is under your guardianship.”

“He had no right to go to Zeeland,” returned John de Witt, moving from the window; “nor any right to deceive me with intent to rouse dissension in the State,—but since he had the will and the power, what avails our talk of right?”

Cornelius leant forward from his high-backed chair and stared thoughtfully into the fire.

The pleasant glow of the burning logs played over his blunt-featured, well-looking face, his handsome grey silk dress, braided in gold, his embroidered baldric, his high boots and massive sword-hilt. He was a large and weighty man, of a demeanour more passionate and impatient than his brother.

“You must remember I always distrusted this pupil of yours,” he said slowly. “Have we not had enough difficulty, at home and abroad, that you must nurse this viper to sting you on your own hearth?”

John de Witt moved to the other side of the fireplace.

“He is very young.”

The Ruard glanced up.

“Ah, still you make excuses for him.”

“I endeavour to be just, brother,” answered the Grand Pensionary. “This young man hath fooled me, I confess it. I have done all in my power to prevent this mistake of mine proving of danger to the State——”

“Do not imagine that I reproach you,” put in Cornelius quickly.

His brother faintly smiled.

“It may be that I wish to justify myself … a statesman should not be so easily deceived—and by a child. I thought I could rely on those I had placed about him. I did not know he was in communication with M. de Zuylestein.”

“All which shows that he is cleverer than we. Why do you speak of his youth, since he has belied it with his wisdom?” asked Cornelius warmly.

“I thought not of wisdom or cleverness,” replied the Grand Pensionary, half mournfully, “but of what his character might be; what honour, strength, or nobility he may possess. I have taken some pains with his teaching, he hath been educated as a Christian, a Dutchman, a gentleman; I cannot believe my labour has been in vain—not utterly.”

“He seeks his father’s power, and less will not satisfy him,” said the Ruard. “And as every magistrate in Holland hath sworn to the Perpetual Edict of the abdication of his House, what is there before us if he grows in strength?”

“His hopes cannot be so presumptuous,” answered John de Witt sternly. “If they are we must check them. I have regained the Princess Dowager, through her fears and her vanity.”

“She hath no influence with him. He owns no counsellor but his pride—he attended the review of the troops at Breda——”

“Against my will.”

“He went to flaunt us.”

“Still, at the officers’ banquet they placed him below M. de Montbas, and he would not take his seat nor call upon M. de Montbas; so his ambition brings humiliation on him. We gained by that show of firmness.”

“No concessions,” said the Ruard, “no concessions. His party become incredibly bold; we have been driven to order out the train-bands at Dordt to check the mob.”

“It is a marvellous thing that they should clamour for him,” mused John de Witt, turning his dark, sad eyes on his brother. “What can they know of him that they should love him so?”

“The base crowd care not about his qualities,” replied the Ruard, “they but seek an excuse for disorder and lawlessness. Did you hear Vivien in the Assembly to-day?”

“No.”

Cornelius de Witt laughed angrily.

“He was cutting a book with a steel knife. I, sitting next him, asked what he was about. ‘Trying the effect of steel on parchment,’ he said—meaning that once there was a sword in the Prince of Orange’s hand there would be an end of the Perpetual Edict.”

John de Witt was silent, and his brother rose.

“If I am to return to Dordt to-night I must take my leave.”

The Grand Pensionary roused himself from absorbed thoughts; he asked after his brother’s wife and his own children.

“Do you see them often?”

“Almost every day.”

“I have put a Bible for Agneta in your portmantle—it is large print that she may read it while at her spinning-wheel.”

“She is a good girl.”

A radiant look came into John de Witt’s eyes.

“I can hardly bring myself to do without such precious company, but they are better with my sister. This house is too quiet, and I so seldom here.”

Both were silent, thinking of Wendela de Witt. Regrets were not in their religion; believing, they could not repine.

The firelight, showing more strongly as the grey day faded, warmed the sombre, dark room into a more cheerful aspect, glittering redly in the brass fireirons and bellows, the nails in the leather chairs, the Ruard’s embroidered dress and sword-hilt; showing, too, the Grand Pensionary’s tall and stately figure in his quiet black with the plain linen collar tied with silk tassels, and the brown hair falling either side the melancholy, composed face.

There was a great likeness between the two brothers, though Cornelius was of a larger make, a freer carriage, haughtier perhaps and more fiery, but with a glance as dignified and a bearing as noble.

“Since you must go——” John de Witt was saying, when Van Ouvenaller opened the door.

“Mynheer, His Highness the Prince of Orange.”

The brothers exchanged a quick glance.

“He is here?”

“In the library, Mynheer.”

“Alone?”

“He rode up with one of his gentlemen, Mynheer, who remains with the horses.”

John de Witt laid his hand on his brother’s sleeve.

“Desire the Prince to come in here if he wishes to see me, Van Ouvenaller.”

When the secretary had gone, the Ruard spoke.

“You did not know he was at the Hague?”

“No; he must have ridden from Honsholredyck to-day.”

“What does this move mean?”

The Grand Pensionary’s lips were sternly set, his brows slightly frowning.