CHAPTER IXFRANCE MOVESMidway through September and a beautiful day of pure gold the Prince was riding home through the brown-leaved woods that surrounded his villa. Contrary to his custom, he rode slowly, and constantly checked his fine animal, for he was thinking deeply, and those moments when he rode to and from his house were almost the only time when he was alone and not under the necessity of speaking to some one. He had just come from the last of the private sittings of the States, which had given their formal assent to the gigantic enterprise he meditated. He had now no further difficulty with his own country. The merchants, exasperated by the refusal of King Louis to allow herrings and woven goods from Holland into his country, had stifled opposition to the Prince in Amsterdam. He had always been sure of the rest of the Provinces, who, after the late persecutions of Protestants in France, the refusal to allow the Dutch in that country to retire to Holland, the constant fears they had been under since King James commenced rebuilding his navy and King Louis commenced his aggressions in Cologne, looked to the Prince with that same passionate devotion as they had done in '72, and trusted to him to save them again from dangers little less pressing; for, the last year past, Gaspard Fagel had been encouraging this dread of an armed alliance between France and England which seemed so near consummation and would be fatal to the very existence of the United Provinces.It was from abroad came the difficulties that, for the last six months, had made the Prince's days almost unbearably anxious; and as the time drew near that anxiety became a lively torture absolutely unguessed at by those who judged the Prince by his calm, almost cold quiet. Certainly the Spartan boy with the ferret under his cloak showed no more heroic fortitude than did the Stadtholder during these weeks of preparation. Of those who surrounded him perhaps only two, his friend William Bentinck and Gaspard Fagel, understood his position, and even these could not share his sufferings, however much they might his disquietude.From the allies whom, during the last two years, he had been marshalling into a league against Louis, there was little to fear, though it required delicate handling not to offend Catholic potentates such as the Pope and the Emperor; but from France was fearful and pressing danger, and England, where eventually success or failure must lie, was a suspicious quantity to William, who had been tricked and dealt ill with (though never deceived) by English politics all his life.If the certain news of his expedition reached James and that monarch clapt up the Protestant lords and united with Louis in an attack on the United Provinces, William would have to face another '72 over again, and with but little better chance of success than he had then; if Louis made an attack on the frontiers of Brabant or the Spanish Lowlands before the Prince sailed the States would refuse to allow his departure, and the moment in England would be lost, perhaps for ever; if, most terrible alternative of all, he took all the forces of his country, naval and military, to England, and there met with opposition, delays, even defeat—if James roused and the English bulk were faithful to him and Louis seized the opportunity to pour his troops into defenceless Holland while her ships and men were absent—then the Prince, who loved his country with a deep and intense passion, would have to accuse himself as the author of her ruin.Certainly he was jeopardizing the utmost any man could—the dearest thing in the world to him, beside which his own life was not even taken into consideration—and yet the only other course was to risk this same beloved liberty of his country, not by violent means, but by inaction and gradual weakening before a stronger power, and this was against all the teaching of his race, all the experience of his life, his own imperious temper, and the settled conviction both of his soul and his intelligence of what was the best, not alone for Holland but for Europe.As he approached the 'huis ten bosch' he brought his reluctant horse to a slow walk. M. D'Avaux had done what the Prince had long expected, requested a private, informal audience, and William had told him that he should be walking in the garden at the back of his house that afternoon. As the time for this interview approached the Prince felt a weariness unutterable at the thought of meeting his enemy; he knew very well what M. D'Avaux had to say and what his own answers would be, and a smooth passage at arms with the French Ambassador was the last thing suited to his present temper.Day after day he had to listen to, arbitrate among, encourage, check, guide, and advise the impetuous, arrogant English gathered at The Hague, and lately joined by men of importance such as my Lord Shrewsbury and my Lord Manchester, and this, to one of his reserve, was perhaps the most distasteful side of his task; it left him no leisure even for his one diversion of hunting, since it filled all the little time left from business, and begat in him a fatigue that longed for the relaxation of the unending strain.He had an almost feverish love of exercise and fresh air, and as he came within sight of the plain front of his house showing at the end of an avenue of magnificent trees he stayed his horse altogether and sat still in the saddle looking about him; three things that he loved dearly, clear sunshine, pure salt air, and intense quiet beguiled him into forgetting for a few seconds his deep anxieties.The atmosphere had that peculiar mellow quality of soft light found only in the Low Countries; the trees were motionless, and their leaves hung clear cut from the graceful branches in burning hues of crimson, gold, and brown; wreaths and twists of fallen leaves lay in the damp cold grass, and fine brittle twigs scattered over the hard paths where the frost had made little glittering ridges; the sky was blue, but blue hazed in gold; a large piece of water reflected the polished trunks of beeches patched with moss, the twisting red roots of brambles, and the foxy colour of broken ferns; two swans moved slowly along this lake, and the water was in sluggish ripples against their dead white breasts; their feet seemed to stir with difficulty, and they left a clear track behind, which showed that a thin breath of frost had passed over the water, dulling the surface.The man on the horse noticed this, and it brought him back to what was ever rolling in his thoughts. If this sign of an early and severe winter was made good, he would have the less to fear for the United Provinces, since they were almost impossible to invade in the depth of snow and ice. This was one reason in his choosing this season for his expedition. As he watched the two silent swans and the film of frost they displaced, his whole face changed with the intensity of his thought; he straightened in the saddle and clutched the reins tightly in his thickly gloved hands; before the frosts had ceased and the waters were running free in spring he would deal with France on equal terms or be dead in the endeavour.Heated by the wave of inner exaltation that shook him he lightly touched his great grey horse and took the avenue at a gallop, drew rein at the villa steps, and blew a little whistle he carried. When the groom came he dismounted, and entering the private garden by the door in the wall to the right of the house walked slowly to the covered alley where he had promised to meet M. D'Avaux.The garden had the same stillness as the wood; the late chilled roses hung motionless on their stems, the curious agave plants and Italian laurels were stiff against the wall, a deep border of St. Michael's daisies showed a hard colour of purple about the three steps of the sundial and the flat basin where the fat carp shook golden gleams under the curling withering water-lily leaves.As the Prince turned into the walk at the end of the garden, shaded overhead with ilex trees and edged with a glossy border of box, he saw the Frenchman pacing the sunless path.William touched his hat and the Ambassador bowed. The Prince's sharp glance detected that he was something out of countenance."I wonder, M. D'Avaux, what you can have to say to me.""Yet Your Highness is well able to guess," de Avaux answered, with the air of a compliment.William looked at him again; he detested all Frenchmen, and since the day when, a grave child of eleven and a state prisoner, he had sat sternly in his coach in the Voorhout, and refused to yield precedence to M. D'Èstrees, he had especially hated the French envoys to the States, who had always been, in the truest sense, his enemies; the only thing that softened him to M. D'Avaux was that diplomat's cleverness. The Prince, who loved a worthy antagonist, admired him for his real wit and skill in the long and bitter game that had been played between them; nevertheless, there was, in the full bright glance he cast on him, a quality that his antagonist did not mistake."I fear," added the Ambassador, "that I do not find Your Highness very well disposed towards me.""This is matter of business, is it not, Monsieur?" answered the Prince. "When you have opened your subject I will discover my disposition to it."They were walking up and down the long walk; the thick gold sunshine slipped through the ilex branches and flickered on the Frenchman's black satins and the Prince's heavy fur-edged cloak. M. D'Avaux held his hat in his hand, but the Prince still wore his brown beaver."I am very sorry," said the Frenchman, in his quiet, pleasant manner, but with obvious indication of the concern he was under, "that I have had so few opportunities of assuring you in what esteem my master holdeth Your Highness——"William made no reply."These are no idle words," continued M. D'Avaux, fingering the black curls of his peruke on his breast. "Despite all unfortunate differences, His Majesty hath, as all Europe, a great admiration for the courage, wisdom, and address of Your Highness——""Is it not rather late for these compliments, M. D'Avaux?""There is an object in them, Monseigneur," answered the Ambassador; "for in consequence of the feeling of His Majesty to Your Highness I am speaking to you now instead of to the States.""Ah," said William. He switched at the box hedge with his short riding-whip. "Do you not, Monsieur, consider myself and the States as one?""History, Monseigneur, showeth that the House of Orange and the United Provinces have not always been of the same sentiments and design.""They are so, however, now, Monsieur," answered the Prince dryly; "and whatever your business, you may put it before myself or the States, whichever you choose."M. D'Avaux bit his lip; he read in William's curt words a reminder that he was absolute with the States and more confident than ever of his power over them; he was nettled into a colder tone."Yet I think that Your Highness would rather hear me than let me take my message to Their High Mightinesses."William coughed. His cloak was fur-lined, but he constantly shivered; the shade, even of a September day, was hateful to him."Come into the sun," he said, and turned out of the alley into the clear-lit garden. They walked slowly towards the sundial and the carp basin, M. D'Avaux prodding the hard gravel with his cane and the Prince with his switch under his arm."Well, your business," said William calmly."Monseigneur," replied M. D'Avaux, with sincerity and some earnestness, "I think that you are embarked on a dangerous enterprise.""The French say so," answered the Prince. "I have been told of the most extraordinary reports in your gazettes and pamphlets.""I do not obtain my information from gazettes and pamphlets, Your Highness," answered the Ambassador firmly, "but from more reliable sources."William paused by the carp pond and the bed of violet daisies."What is your information?" he asked."The last which Your Highness would wish in the hands of France.""You seem to think, Monsieur," said William, with the shadow of a smile, "that I am an enemy of His Majesty."He was not looking at the Frenchman, but down at the bed of daisies that he stirred gently with his whip as he spoke. M. D'Avaux looked sharply at his haughty aquiline profile, and answered with a quickening of the breath—"His Majesty cannot forget what you said at your table a year ago, Monseigneur. You said, Your Highness, when you heard that His Majesty had seized and dismantled Orange on the claim of the House of Longueville, that you would teach him what it was to insult a Prince of Orange, and you refused to retract or explain the words.""His Majesty," replied William, "hath neither retracted nor explained the deed.""Your Highness has often repeated those words."The Prince lifted his brilliant eyes."I shall repeat them again, Monsieur," he said, in his strained low voice, "and again until I obtain satisfaction."He saw that M. D'Avaux had made the allusion to humiliate him, and though there was no sign of it in his countenance the shaft had told, for the insulting seizure of his personal princely apanage, for which he had been powerless to avenge himself, had been the hardest to bear of all the insolences of France, and the revenues had been a real loss."You see," bowed M. D'Avaux, "that we have some reason to believe Your Highness the enemy of France."The Prince continued to look at him steadily."His Christian Majesty is very interested in my affairs," he said."It is the affairs of King James," returned the Frenchman, with some grandeur, "that my master is interested in——""How doth that touch the States?""It toucheth Your Highness, for we believe that you make preparations to lead an armament against His Britannic Majesty."William lowered his eyes almost disdainfully."I perceive," he said, "that you do get your information from the gazettes after all——""No," answered M. D'Avaux softly. "I will tell Your Highness where I get my information. You know of one Verace, of Geneva?"The Prince's whip still stirred leisurely among the daisies."He was steward once to the Princess and dismissed.""As early as August, Monseigneur, this Verace wrote to M. Skelton giving information of the intrigues of Your Highness, the Princess, and M. Bentinck."He watched the effect of his shaft, but the Prince was unmoved."You might as well quote the gazettes, Monsieur," he said."These letters, Your Highness, were sent by M. Skelton to my Lord Sunderland," replied M. D'Avaux, "and he took no heed of them—we have reason to believe that they never reached the King."William answered dryly—"None of this is very interesting, Monsieur. You have had the assurances of M. Van Citters in London, of M. Castagnana, King James himself is content, M. D'Albeville is content, and it is not for France to take this part of interfering on the information of cast-off servants.""I have had other news from Rome," said M. D'Avaux coldly, "of the intrigues of Your Highness with the Vatican. Your Highness, methinks, knoweth something of some letters which went in to the Pope in a basket of wax fruit."William gave him a quick glance."Take these advices to the court of England, which they concern, Monsieur.""Your Highness is very well aware that all the foreign intelligence that goeth to England is under the control of M. de Sunderland—who is your very good friend."The Prince faintly smiled."I thought M. de Sunderland was believed the very good friend of France.""He may," said M. D'Avaux, rather hotly, "deceive M. Barillon, but he doth not deceive me.""It is unfortunate," remarked the Prince, "that you are not Ambassador to London. I think your abilities wasted here, Monsieur.""I thank Your Highness." He bowed grandly. "Such as my talents are, I find scope for them at The Hague—I only regret that my confrère is no longer M. Skelton."He said this knowing that Mr. Skelton was detested by the Prince, who had made his residence in Holland unendurable to him. The dislike was returned by the Englishman, who was the close ally of M. D'Avaux in the attempt to expose and ruin the plans of William. William, however, had triumphed in ousting Skelton from The Hague, and his successor, D'Albeville, was, as M. D'Avaux knew to his vexation, a mean creature that no one could long depend on."Mr. Skelton," said the Prince, "is no doubt extremely useful in Paris. And I must ask you, Monsieur, to let me know the true object of this audience, which was not, I think, to discuss these puerile rumours."The Frenchman flushed; he had always found the Prince difficult to come to conclusions with. William had a short, flashing way of scorn, an inscrutable calm, that even now, when, in his certain knowledge of the Prince's intended enterprise, M. D'Avaux felt he had the upper hand, was difficult to face.M. D'Avaux felt himself, as always, confused and heated; he believed that the Prince was laughing at him and at France, and a wave of anger shook him both against the supine James who would not be roused, and his own government who would not credit half the information he sent home. He tried that dry directness which his opponent employed with such effect."Your Highness will scarcely deny that you intend a descent on England?""I should," answered William, "be a fool if I did not deny it when asked by you, Monsieur."M. D'Avaux thrust his cane into the crevices of the stone pedestal of the sundial."Whatever Your Highness may say—I know.""Ah!" answered William, "but can you prove?""To the satisfaction of my own intelligence, Monseigneur," said M. D'Avaux vigorously. "You cannot suppose that I have been unobservant as to your measures since the beginning of the year."William kept his eyes fixed on the carp sluggishly moving round the fountain basin."It would interest me, M. D'Avaux," he said, "to hear what you have discovered of these measures of mine.""You shall hear, Monseigneur." The Frenchman spoke as one spurred and goaded. "For one thing, I know that you obtained four million guilden from the States for repairing the fortifications of Brabant—that this money was to be payable in four years, and you have raised it in one. Your Highness hath the money, and the forts are untouched."William was silent."Another public fund of equal value you have diverted from its proper use; you have farmed out the revenues of the Admiralty, and this, with your own great fortune, maketh Your Highness master of a huge treasure—apart from the money you are constantly raising among the French and English refugees. For what purpose is all this wealth intended?""You say you know," replied William, without looking up. "And, my faith, what kind of an answer can you expect from me?""Your Highness can give no good reason.""None of any sort, to you, on any part of my conduct," said the Prince coldly. "You already overstep your province."Pale, but firm, M. D'Avaux stood his ground."I do not overstep my duty to my master if I ask why Your Highness persuaded the States to build forty new ships of war, and secretly added twelve by your own authority—why these ships were sent publicly to remote stations and secretly brought back—why a great army is encamped at Nymwegen—why M. Bentinck is so continually closeted with the Elector and Your Highness with the States, the German Princes, the Landgrave of Hesse and M. Castagnana—why seven thousand Swedish mercenaries have been hired, and a huge number of Dutch soldiers and sailors secretly raised and privately drilled?"The Prince turned his back to the sundial, so that he faced the Ambassador; his hands, clasped behind him, held his riding-whip; his face was inscrutable."Well, what else?" he asked dryly."Only this, that Your Highness and your creatures may deceive the King of England into thinking it is against Denmark and the Corsairs that all these preparations are being made, but you cannot so deceive the King of France.""And yet," returned the Prince, "I thought His Majesty gave but a cold attention to your alarms."This, accompanied by a pointed smile, told M. D'Avaux that William was quite well aware that it had not been so easy to rouse Louis to a sense of his danger. The Frenchman bit his lip; he had a master-stroke in reserve."Your Highness is a very able Prince," he said, on an oblique line of attack, "but my master pays well and is well served. I know who, under so many different names and pretences, purchaseth and hireth transport boats in so many different ports; I know who ordereth the bakers of Amsterdam to make biscuit, the saddlers to make bridles and saddles—why all the artillery is leaving the towns and coming down to the coasts—why magazines of hay are waiting in all the seaports, and why English noblemen are living furtively at The Hague."He paused and looked narrowly at the Stadtholder, who, he was confident, must be taken aback at this knowledge of his plans; but the Prince was so immovable that the wild thought occurred to M. D'Avaux—is it really Denmark or his own country, as King James contends?"I cannot conceive why you come to me with this," said William."To warn you, Monseigneur.""Of what?" flashed the Prince."Of France," answered M. D'Avaux impressively.William drew a deep breath."You should know better than to seek to frighten me, M. D'Avaux. I am not by nature timorous.""I warn Your Highness," repeated the Ambassador. "I remind you that you are not a sovereign Prince.""I rule a sovereign state, Monsieur.""The first magistrate of a republic, Monseigneur, cannot behave as a king. Since Your Highness will give me no satisfaction, I shall go to the States.""You will do as you wish," answered William; "but you are, nevertheless, perfectly well aware that I rule the States."D'Avaux bowed."Give me credit for that discernment—the card I play is not an appeal from Your Highness to the States——""What then?"The Frenchman moved a little farther back, still in a courtier's attitude, with his hat in his hand, looking intently at the Prince, who stood on the steps of the sundial with the violet daisies brushing his cloak and boots."Mr. Skelton hath prevailed on M. de Louvois to command me to say to the States that there is such friendship between His Majesty and King James that any attack on Britain would be regarded in the same light as an attack on France. That," added M. D'Avaux softly, "may make the States see their interests as different from those of Your Highness."William gave not the least sign of surprise or confusion."So it is Mr. Skelton's advice to endeavour to frighten the States?" he remarked."I shall deliver my message to-morrow," said M. D'Avaux, "and then Your Highness will see if the States are prepared for an attack—an instant attack on their frontiers—if they are prepared to allow you and their whole strength to leave a country which France is menacing. You saved the Provinces in '72—without you they could not save themselves now——""You must follow out your instructions, Monsieur," said the Prince.He stepped down from the sundial and looked narrowly at the Ambassador."You have nothing more to say?" he added."Nothing, Monseigneur, unless Your Highness can give me the assurances I was bid to ask——""What would be the use of that, Monsieur, when you know, as you say," returned the Stadtholder.M. D'Avaux was slightly baffled; he thought that the Prince must betray more concern unless he had some counter-stroke to this of the threat to the States.He answered with dignity—"Then I need trouble Your Highness no further.""Very well," answered William. "I am sorry that you have wasted your time, Monsieur; but I always was of a tolerably positive disposition, and difficult to turn.""All Europe knoweth that," answered M. D'Avaux, with a little flush; for the Prince's words were an obvious assertion of the fact that he would not alter his plans for any French threats—an obvious challenge.They walked down the hard gravel path between the beds of late roses. At the garden gate the Prince parted from M. D'Avaux with that simplicity which was his natural manner, but generally credited to him for guile."I am obliged to you for this courtesy," he said. "Au revoir, Monsieur.""I thank Your Highness," answered M. D'Avaux, with a grand bow.The Prince closed the gate on him, and went instantly into the house by the back entrance. And so straight to his private room, where a little company, consisting of M. Fagel, M. Bentinck, M. Dyckfelt, the envoy of M. Castagnana, Governor of the Spanish Netherlands, the envoy of the Elector of Hanover, a Prince of Lunenburgh, and the Landgrave of Hesse were awaiting him.They all rose at his entrance. He came swiftly and breathlessly to the table, flung off his hat, and said—"Gentlemen, M. D'Avaux knoweth everything—that villain D'Albeville hath betrayed us. There is a bomb to be dropped to-morrow that is like to blast us all."CHAPTER XTHE ENGLISH AMBASSADOR"M. D'Albeville?" echoed the Landgrave."It can be none other, Highness," answered William, with energy. "No one else was privy to my Lord Sunderland his part——"Fagel gave a quick exclamation."He knoweth that?""Yes—he scenteth it," said the Stadtholder grimly. "And he hath a pretty idea of the preparations, only he doth not guess either their magnitude nor their forwardness."He seated himself, and the others took their places again. There was, in the whole assembly, a breathless air of expectation and excitement. The room was full of steady mellow sunshine, which brought out every detail of the persons of the gentlemen about the walnut table and glimmered in the fair hair of M. de Lunenburgh, who sat facing the window.The Stadtholder glanced round these intent faces and took off his gloves, unclasped his cloak, and said, in a passionate voice, directly addressing the Grand Pensionary—"M. Fagel, the design is to frighten the States, by declaring that any design against England will at once provoke France into an attack on the Provinces."M. Fagel was silent. This stroke was unexpected and tremendous. If Louis fell on the frontiers of the States, Their High Mightinesses would certainly not permit the Prince and the army to sail for England."You know my opinion," continued William, looking at the Spaniard, "that if M. de Castagnana can but keep Ostend, Mons, and Namur till the spring, I shall then have settled this English business, and be able to return with a sufficient force to drive the French out of Flanders.""I think," said M. Fagel, "that the States would not take the risks, and this threat from France will have a very ill effect among the common people.""And," added M. Dyckfelt, who had primary charge of English affairs, "if M. D'Avaux and M. Skelton succeed in undeceiving King James as to the true design of M. de Sunderland that would be a shrewd blow——""One which shall not be delivered," said the Prince firmly. "M. de Sunderland is the one man who can keep the foreign intelligence from the King, and he stayeth in office. M. D'Albeville is a dirty tool, but there is more use to be got out of him——""But he, Your Highness, you say hath betrayed us?" questioned M. de Hesse."And now he can betray them," said William. "By Heaven, Highness, do you think we, at this stage of our endeavours, shall trip over an insect like this D'Albeville?"He finished his sentence with a smile at M. de Hesse. He was himself of a German House, a German Prince and a Grandee of the Holy Empire, and had alway an affection for and a powerful influence over the Landgraves, Electors, and Princes who made up the German confederacy.de Hesse responded—"We are, as ever, ready to do what Your Highness thinketh fit in this juncture.""Ah!" answered William warmly. "I should do ill to fail with such friends——""Should we not," asked M. Bentinck, "consult with some of the English at The Hague?""No," said the Stadtholder firmly. "They have none of them any conception of continental affairs, and at present are engaged in disputing over the form of the Declaration, for they seem already to be split into very decided parties."M. Fagel and M. Dyckfelt both considered it a mistake not to more fully trust the English nobles, but both were aware that the Prince's distrust of that nation (but too well founded on experience) was not to be shaken.The German Princes and Ministers were willing enough to keep the threads of the coalition as much as possible in their own hands, and none of them could believe that a youth like Lord Shrewsbury and an eccentric rake like Lord Mordaunt could be of use in serious counsels.The envoy of the Elector of Hanover proceeded to lay before William the plans for the fortifications of the Rhine which the Germans had agreed to defend with troops, replacing those withdrawn by the States, in the same way as M. de Castagnana had engaged to fortify the frontier of Brabant on the side of Flanders.William surveyed the plans and listened to the explanations, in which the Landgrave and M. de Lunenburgh eagerly joined, with an elated satisfaction which even the stroke about to be dealt by M. D'Avaux could not destroy. His spirits, as ever, rose with increasing difficulties and dangers, and after having to listen to the thousand, to him, paltry arguments of the English party leaders, this talk of the real heart of affairs, the hand-to-hand grips with France, had a ringing pleasure for his ears.M. Fagel, withdrawn into the window embrasure, was speaking with William Bentinck, a tall, fair, and handsome man, of a quiet dignity, a few years older than the Stadtholder, and that Prince's closest friend, of the probable effect of this move planned by the wit and watchfulness of Mr. Skelton and M. D'Avaux, when an usher entered to inform His Highness that the English Ambassador requested an immediate audience.William was roused at once from his maps and papers, and a movement of excitement silenced the low, serious voices."M. D'Albeville!" exclaimed the Stadtholder. His eyes flashed, and he rose. "Conduct him here."As the usher left, all looked at the Prince."Why should he come?" asked M. de Lunenburgh.William laid his hand affectionately on the German's brown velvet sleeve."My child," he said softly, "whatever he hath come for, we will turn him to our own uses."At this moment the English Ambassador entered, amid an absolute silence; he paused on the threshold and glanced at the men before him: the Stadtholder between M. de Lunenburgh, the Landgrave and the Hanoverian envoy at the opposite side of the dark circular walnut table; the Spaniard, very splendid in gold brocade that caught the sun, standing with his back to the hearth, and opposite him in the dazzling length of the window M. Bentinck with the two Dutch ministers.So were gathered in this small, plain room representatives of the most of the members of the huge coalition which the formidable Stadtholder had laboured so long to combine against France; and M. D'Albeville, standing for England, equally precious both to these allies and to Louis, instinctively drew back a little, as one who has stepped among silent enemies.He was a slight Irishman, and had been handsome, but dissipation, poverty, and meanness had given him a haggard and livid appearance; he wore gaudy, but tarnished, finery, and a huge red-brown peruke that hung in knots of heavy curls either side his sharp face."I desired a private audience, Highness," he said, speaking in perfect French."We are private here, M. le Marquis," answered William, handing the packet of papers back to M. de Hesse. "And we are glad that you have come, for we had business to discuss with you."He seated himself at that, and M. D'Albeville came to the opposite side of the table, so directly facing him; the others remained standing."You," said William, with energy, "have been trying to fool me, M. le Marquis. You have seen fit to convey warnings to the court of England and to M. D'Avaux."The look of fear that was never quite absent from the Irishman's face deepened; he seemed to shrink into his stiff buckram and brocade clothes."So God help me——" he began."Oh, enough of your oaths!" cried the Prince, in a sudden burst of fury. "Do you think I have time to listen to your cursed excuses? How much have you told that damned Frenchman?"So direct, terrible, and sincere was his passion that the object of it retreated towards the door, and even the spectators were awed."I protest," answered the Ambassador, dry-lipped, "I have told nothing. I have sent reassuring messages to His Majesty, as Your Highness knoweth——""Were you not well enough paid for them," demanded William fiercely, "that you must go cry your wares in the French market?""Monseigneur, you are misinformed——"The Prince cut him short."M. D'Avaux hath been told of M. de Sunderland's part—you told him. Hath King James been warned also?""I came to tell Your Highness so," stammered M. D'Albeville. "Not by me, God knoweth; but I had this morning a message——""From whom?""Not from my Lord Sunderland—direct from His Majestybidding me ask the States the reason of the preparations of Your Highness——"The Stadtholder glanced at his friends; he was still taut with passion. Dealing with mean creatures such as this roused that rare fury in him that brought him out of himself."So now you are afraid, eh?" he asked. "You are not quite so sure which is the winning side, M. le Marquis——"M. D'Albeville came nearer the table. Another fear conquered his fear of the terrible Prince."I cannot go on," he said feverishly. "I dare not. I can help you no more, Monsieur. I must deliver that message, and I must tell the King everything——""You will deliver the message," interrupted William grimly; "but you will not open the eyes of His Majesty until I bid you."The Irishman clutched his hand on his breast, with a contortion of terror and despair on his face. He had been playing fast and loose between France and Holland so long that he scarcely knew how far he had betrayed one to the other, only that of late he had kept the greater faith with the Prince, who terrorized him, as did all the English envoys, except those he won by friendship, such as Temple and Sidney.M. D'Albeville was now convinced that, in view of the coming French action, the Prince could not succeed, and he wished fervently that he was before James or Louis that he might gain a good price by telling what he knew of William's plans. He already regretted having come before His Highness, yet he had not dared act without warning him, and had been in some hopes of persuading him of his own faith and use.Disappointed in this, he groaned aloud, began a feeble sentence that died on his lips, and cast a furtive glance for a way of escape.This did not fail of notice by the Prince."Bentinck," he said, "look to the door."That nobleman stepped quietly in front of it, and the wretched Ambassador shrilled a protest."Doth Your Highness intend violence?""I intend to make use of you, Monsieur!" cried the Prince. "We are men in earnest. Do you think that we should allow you to in any way incommode us?""It will be Tower Hill for me!" cried M. D'Albeville. "I dare keep silent no longer—if my Lord President goeth, what protection have I got?""M. de Sunderland shall not go until I have sailed from Helvoetsluys," said William. "How much hath M. D'Avaux promised you for telling everything to the Court of St. James?"M. D'Albeville shrugged, but obviously brightened as the talk changed to money."You are quite mistaken, Your Highness——""How much was it?" interrupted William."Naturally, if I could help M. D'Avaux—I should expect some consideration for the trouble——"The Prince for a moment took his great eyes from the Irishman and addressed a rapid sentence in Dutch to M. Dyckfelt, who at once went to the Chinese bureau at the side of the fireplace and unlocked a drawer."I must deliver the message to the States," said M. D'Albeville, between cringing and defiance. He was really afraid of what might have happened in England—Sunderland might be in disgrace, and the whole intrigue discovered by James, for all he knew."It is my wish that you should," answered William. "It will come very pat with M. D'Avauxhismessage."M. Dyckfelt put on the table a gold standish, a sheet of paper, and a casket, which last the Prince kept before himself."M. le Marquis," he said, "you will do me one more service—you will write to His Majesty that his suspicions are quite unfounded, that my preparations, you are assured, are against Denmark, and that no credit is to be given to the tales of M. Skelton and M. D'Avaux about M. de Sunderland."The Ambassador's face became absolutely blanched; he moistened his lips, and murmured, "I dare not—I dare not," between dry breaths."You dare not refuse," answered William. "I could so expose you that not a court in Europe would employ you. Besides, it is enough that I command you. Sit down and write."D'Albeville came slowly nearer the table."I would do anything to serve Your Highness, but not this—it is too late—it has gone too far——""Write," said the Stadtholder briefly. "I pay well, you know that."M. D'Albeville sat down in the chair opposite the paper and standish."But His Majesty will learn from others, and I shall be recalled and" ... he complained miserably ... "death ... treason is death. Oh, my God, I cannot do——""M. le Marquis," interrupted William, "His Majesty is simple enough to trust you, and for the rest I protect those whom I use."M. D'Albeville shivered and took up the pen. He had, and knew it, no chance with the Prince, whose potent personality always completely mastered his. He dared not, from some sheer unnameable fear, refuse or resist, but the damp stood on his brow and his heart was cramped at the thought of the possible vengeance of the master whom he was betraying."You know what to write," said William. "Put it in your own hand and your own style—you do not, I think, use cipher——"Tears of terror, rage, and mortification stood in the Irishman's eyes. He had come to excuse himself from a service that had become too dangerous, and found himself overpowered into going still greater lengths. He could not bring himself to write the letter which would eventually cut him off from all hope of pardon from England."He shall write," said the Prince, in a low tone, to M. de Hesse, "if I have to hold a pistol to his head the while."And he came softly round behind the Ambassador's chair."Gentlemen," complained M. D'Albeville, "is this a way to treat the representative of His Britannic Majesty?"The Landgrave and M. de Lunenburgh closed nearer round him.M. D'Albeville looked up at the grave faces bent on him, and began to write."Make haste," said the Prince, drawing a round filigree watch from his pocket and glancing at the time.The Ambassador groaned and drove his pen the faster; in a few moments the sheet of paper was covered, sanded, and signed."There is my ruin, Highness," said M. D'Albeville dramatically, handing it with shaking fingers."Men like you are never ruined," returned the Prince. He glanced over the letter, ill spelt, ill expressed, but all that Sunderland would need to quiet the fears of his master.The Prince folded it across, and M. D'Albeville held out his hand."By your leave, M. le Marquis, I will post this." William opened the casket M. Dyckfelt had brought from the Chinese bureau, and took out a couple of little linen bags, which he slid along the table towards the crumpled figure of the Ambassador; the glint of gold could be seen between the wide meshes. "The audience is over," he added dryly.M. D'Albeville got to his feet and began to pick up the money and thrust it into the huge flap pockets of his silver-branched coat, making the while little sounds of protest, and shaking his head dismally."Listen," said the Prince vigorously. "You will give your message to the States to-morrow, and you will send no letters of any kind to England until I request you to——""I am always the servant of Your Highness," said M. D'Albeville with a dreary submission, yet with a kind of satisfaction in the bribe that lay heavy in his pockets; the Prince always paid better than M. D'Avaux, kept short by M. de Louvois, who disliked him."All packets leaving our ports are watched," remarked William. "So do not try to send any secret messages to England."The Ambassador picked up his white-plumed hat, that had fallen to the floor, then came towards the Prince with a humble gesture, as if he would have kissed his hand; but William drew back with a haughty disgust that brought a blush even to M. D'Albeville's brazen cheek. He withdrew backwards, M. Bentinck opened the door for him, and closed it after he had departed, bowing."By Heaven!" burst out the Landgrave, "to think that a great nation should send as representative such a rascal!""His Majesty hath always been unlucky, Highness," answered William, "in the gentlemen he sendeth to The Hague. To use such tools!" he added impatiently; "but I think we have checkmated M. D'Avaux.—M. Fagel," he turned swiftly to the Grand Pensionary, "you see your part? The two messages will come the same day, and you are to protest that there must be some secret alliance between France and England that the States have been kept in the dark about, and that we can give no answer till that is explained; you must feign alarm which will further inflame the people against France and her designs, and so we may provoke King James into repudiating the French alliance and offending His Christian Majesty."Having thus indicated the policy that his genius had instantly conceived, he paused with a little cough, then laughed, which he seldom did save when he had discomfited some one. He laughed now, thinking of M. D'Avaux, and there was a malicious note in it that would not have pleased that diplomat to hear.The German princes laughed also, in a more good-natured fashion, and the whole company moved from their places with a sense that a final resolve had been reached."Come, gentlemen," said the Prince in his tired voice, "I think we have earned our dinner."He handed to M. Fagel the letter written by M. D'Albeville.
CHAPTER IX
FRANCE MOVES
Midway through September and a beautiful day of pure gold the Prince was riding home through the brown-leaved woods that surrounded his villa. Contrary to his custom, he rode slowly, and constantly checked his fine animal, for he was thinking deeply, and those moments when he rode to and from his house were almost the only time when he was alone and not under the necessity of speaking to some one. He had just come from the last of the private sittings of the States, which had given their formal assent to the gigantic enterprise he meditated. He had now no further difficulty with his own country. The merchants, exasperated by the refusal of King Louis to allow herrings and woven goods from Holland into his country, had stifled opposition to the Prince in Amsterdam. He had always been sure of the rest of the Provinces, who, after the late persecutions of Protestants in France, the refusal to allow the Dutch in that country to retire to Holland, the constant fears they had been under since King James commenced rebuilding his navy and King Louis commenced his aggressions in Cologne, looked to the Prince with that same passionate devotion as they had done in '72, and trusted to him to save them again from dangers little less pressing; for, the last year past, Gaspard Fagel had been encouraging this dread of an armed alliance between France and England which seemed so near consummation and would be fatal to the very existence of the United Provinces.
It was from abroad came the difficulties that, for the last six months, had made the Prince's days almost unbearably anxious; and as the time drew near that anxiety became a lively torture absolutely unguessed at by those who judged the Prince by his calm, almost cold quiet. Certainly the Spartan boy with the ferret under his cloak showed no more heroic fortitude than did the Stadtholder during these weeks of preparation. Of those who surrounded him perhaps only two, his friend William Bentinck and Gaspard Fagel, understood his position, and even these could not share his sufferings, however much they might his disquietude.
From the allies whom, during the last two years, he had been marshalling into a league against Louis, there was little to fear, though it required delicate handling not to offend Catholic potentates such as the Pope and the Emperor; but from France was fearful and pressing danger, and England, where eventually success or failure must lie, was a suspicious quantity to William, who had been tricked and dealt ill with (though never deceived) by English politics all his life.
If the certain news of his expedition reached James and that monarch clapt up the Protestant lords and united with Louis in an attack on the United Provinces, William would have to face another '72 over again, and with but little better chance of success than he had then; if Louis made an attack on the frontiers of Brabant or the Spanish Lowlands before the Prince sailed the States would refuse to allow his departure, and the moment in England would be lost, perhaps for ever; if, most terrible alternative of all, he took all the forces of his country, naval and military, to England, and there met with opposition, delays, even defeat—if James roused and the English bulk were faithful to him and Louis seized the opportunity to pour his troops into defenceless Holland while her ships and men were absent—then the Prince, who loved his country with a deep and intense passion, would have to accuse himself as the author of her ruin.
Certainly he was jeopardizing the utmost any man could—the dearest thing in the world to him, beside which his own life was not even taken into consideration—and yet the only other course was to risk this same beloved liberty of his country, not by violent means, but by inaction and gradual weakening before a stronger power, and this was against all the teaching of his race, all the experience of his life, his own imperious temper, and the settled conviction both of his soul and his intelligence of what was the best, not alone for Holland but for Europe.
As he approached the 'huis ten bosch' he brought his reluctant horse to a slow walk. M. D'Avaux had done what the Prince had long expected, requested a private, informal audience, and William had told him that he should be walking in the garden at the back of his house that afternoon. As the time for this interview approached the Prince felt a weariness unutterable at the thought of meeting his enemy; he knew very well what M. D'Avaux had to say and what his own answers would be, and a smooth passage at arms with the French Ambassador was the last thing suited to his present temper.
Day after day he had to listen to, arbitrate among, encourage, check, guide, and advise the impetuous, arrogant English gathered at The Hague, and lately joined by men of importance such as my Lord Shrewsbury and my Lord Manchester, and this, to one of his reserve, was perhaps the most distasteful side of his task; it left him no leisure even for his one diversion of hunting, since it filled all the little time left from business, and begat in him a fatigue that longed for the relaxation of the unending strain.
He had an almost feverish love of exercise and fresh air, and as he came within sight of the plain front of his house showing at the end of an avenue of magnificent trees he stayed his horse altogether and sat still in the saddle looking about him; three things that he loved dearly, clear sunshine, pure salt air, and intense quiet beguiled him into forgetting for a few seconds his deep anxieties.
The atmosphere had that peculiar mellow quality of soft light found only in the Low Countries; the trees were motionless, and their leaves hung clear cut from the graceful branches in burning hues of crimson, gold, and brown; wreaths and twists of fallen leaves lay in the damp cold grass, and fine brittle twigs scattered over the hard paths where the frost had made little glittering ridges; the sky was blue, but blue hazed in gold; a large piece of water reflected the polished trunks of beeches patched with moss, the twisting red roots of brambles, and the foxy colour of broken ferns; two swans moved slowly along this lake, and the water was in sluggish ripples against their dead white breasts; their feet seemed to stir with difficulty, and they left a clear track behind, which showed that a thin breath of frost had passed over the water, dulling the surface.
The man on the horse noticed this, and it brought him back to what was ever rolling in his thoughts. If this sign of an early and severe winter was made good, he would have the less to fear for the United Provinces, since they were almost impossible to invade in the depth of snow and ice. This was one reason in his choosing this season for his expedition. As he watched the two silent swans and the film of frost they displaced, his whole face changed with the intensity of his thought; he straightened in the saddle and clutched the reins tightly in his thickly gloved hands; before the frosts had ceased and the waters were running free in spring he would deal with France on equal terms or be dead in the endeavour.
Heated by the wave of inner exaltation that shook him he lightly touched his great grey horse and took the avenue at a gallop, drew rein at the villa steps, and blew a little whistle he carried. When the groom came he dismounted, and entering the private garden by the door in the wall to the right of the house walked slowly to the covered alley where he had promised to meet M. D'Avaux.
The garden had the same stillness as the wood; the late chilled roses hung motionless on their stems, the curious agave plants and Italian laurels were stiff against the wall, a deep border of St. Michael's daisies showed a hard colour of purple about the three steps of the sundial and the flat basin where the fat carp shook golden gleams under the curling withering water-lily leaves.
As the Prince turned into the walk at the end of the garden, shaded overhead with ilex trees and edged with a glossy border of box, he saw the Frenchman pacing the sunless path.
William touched his hat and the Ambassador bowed. The Prince's sharp glance detected that he was something out of countenance.
"I wonder, M. D'Avaux, what you can have to say to me."
"Yet Your Highness is well able to guess," de Avaux answered, with the air of a compliment.
William looked at him again; he detested all Frenchmen, and since the day when, a grave child of eleven and a state prisoner, he had sat sternly in his coach in the Voorhout, and refused to yield precedence to M. D'Èstrees, he had especially hated the French envoys to the States, who had always been, in the truest sense, his enemies; the only thing that softened him to M. D'Avaux was that diplomat's cleverness. The Prince, who loved a worthy antagonist, admired him for his real wit and skill in the long and bitter game that had been played between them; nevertheless, there was, in the full bright glance he cast on him, a quality that his antagonist did not mistake.
"I fear," added the Ambassador, "that I do not find Your Highness very well disposed towards me."
"This is matter of business, is it not, Monsieur?" answered the Prince. "When you have opened your subject I will discover my disposition to it."
They were walking up and down the long walk; the thick gold sunshine slipped through the ilex branches and flickered on the Frenchman's black satins and the Prince's heavy fur-edged cloak. M. D'Avaux held his hat in his hand, but the Prince still wore his brown beaver.
"I am very sorry," said the Frenchman, in his quiet, pleasant manner, but with obvious indication of the concern he was under, "that I have had so few opportunities of assuring you in what esteem my master holdeth Your Highness——"
William made no reply.
"These are no idle words," continued M. D'Avaux, fingering the black curls of his peruke on his breast. "Despite all unfortunate differences, His Majesty hath, as all Europe, a great admiration for the courage, wisdom, and address of Your Highness——"
"Is it not rather late for these compliments, M. D'Avaux?"
"There is an object in them, Monseigneur," answered the Ambassador; "for in consequence of the feeling of His Majesty to Your Highness I am speaking to you now instead of to the States."
"Ah," said William. He switched at the box hedge with his short riding-whip. "Do you not, Monsieur, consider myself and the States as one?"
"History, Monseigneur, showeth that the House of Orange and the United Provinces have not always been of the same sentiments and design."
"They are so, however, now, Monsieur," answered the Prince dryly; "and whatever your business, you may put it before myself or the States, whichever you choose."
M. D'Avaux bit his lip; he read in William's curt words a reminder that he was absolute with the States and more confident than ever of his power over them; he was nettled into a colder tone.
"Yet I think that Your Highness would rather hear me than let me take my message to Their High Mightinesses."
William coughed. His cloak was fur-lined, but he constantly shivered; the shade, even of a September day, was hateful to him.
"Come into the sun," he said, and turned out of the alley into the clear-lit garden. They walked slowly towards the sundial and the carp basin, M. D'Avaux prodding the hard gravel with his cane and the Prince with his switch under his arm.
"Well, your business," said William calmly.
"Monseigneur," replied M. D'Avaux, with sincerity and some earnestness, "I think that you are embarked on a dangerous enterprise."
"The French say so," answered the Prince. "I have been told of the most extraordinary reports in your gazettes and pamphlets."
"I do not obtain my information from gazettes and pamphlets, Your Highness," answered the Ambassador firmly, "but from more reliable sources."
William paused by the carp pond and the bed of violet daisies.
"What is your information?" he asked.
"The last which Your Highness would wish in the hands of France."
"You seem to think, Monsieur," said William, with the shadow of a smile, "that I am an enemy of His Majesty."
He was not looking at the Frenchman, but down at the bed of daisies that he stirred gently with his whip as he spoke. M. D'Avaux looked sharply at his haughty aquiline profile, and answered with a quickening of the breath—
"His Majesty cannot forget what you said at your table a year ago, Monseigneur. You said, Your Highness, when you heard that His Majesty had seized and dismantled Orange on the claim of the House of Longueville, that you would teach him what it was to insult a Prince of Orange, and you refused to retract or explain the words."
"His Majesty," replied William, "hath neither retracted nor explained the deed."
"Your Highness has often repeated those words."
The Prince lifted his brilliant eyes.
"I shall repeat them again, Monsieur," he said, in his strained low voice, "and again until I obtain satisfaction."
He saw that M. D'Avaux had made the allusion to humiliate him, and though there was no sign of it in his countenance the shaft had told, for the insulting seizure of his personal princely apanage, for which he had been powerless to avenge himself, had been the hardest to bear of all the insolences of France, and the revenues had been a real loss.
"You see," bowed M. D'Avaux, "that we have some reason to believe Your Highness the enemy of France."
The Prince continued to look at him steadily.
"His Christian Majesty is very interested in my affairs," he said.
"It is the affairs of King James," returned the Frenchman, with some grandeur, "that my master is interested in——"
"How doth that touch the States?"
"It toucheth Your Highness, for we believe that you make preparations to lead an armament against His Britannic Majesty."
William lowered his eyes almost disdainfully.
"I perceive," he said, "that you do get your information from the gazettes after all——"
"No," answered M. D'Avaux softly. "I will tell Your Highness where I get my information. You know of one Verace, of Geneva?"
The Prince's whip still stirred leisurely among the daisies.
"He was steward once to the Princess and dismissed."
"As early as August, Monseigneur, this Verace wrote to M. Skelton giving information of the intrigues of Your Highness, the Princess, and M. Bentinck."
He watched the effect of his shaft, but the Prince was unmoved.
"You might as well quote the gazettes, Monsieur," he said.
"These letters, Your Highness, were sent by M. Skelton to my Lord Sunderland," replied M. D'Avaux, "and he took no heed of them—we have reason to believe that they never reached the King."
William answered dryly—
"None of this is very interesting, Monsieur. You have had the assurances of M. Van Citters in London, of M. Castagnana, King James himself is content, M. D'Albeville is content, and it is not for France to take this part of interfering on the information of cast-off servants."
"I have had other news from Rome," said M. D'Avaux coldly, "of the intrigues of Your Highness with the Vatican. Your Highness, methinks, knoweth something of some letters which went in to the Pope in a basket of wax fruit."
William gave him a quick glance.
"Take these advices to the court of England, which they concern, Monsieur."
"Your Highness is very well aware that all the foreign intelligence that goeth to England is under the control of M. de Sunderland—who is your very good friend."
The Prince faintly smiled.
"I thought M. de Sunderland was believed the very good friend of France."
"He may," said M. D'Avaux, rather hotly, "deceive M. Barillon, but he doth not deceive me."
"It is unfortunate," remarked the Prince, "that you are not Ambassador to London. I think your abilities wasted here, Monsieur."
"I thank Your Highness." He bowed grandly. "Such as my talents are, I find scope for them at The Hague—I only regret that my confrère is no longer M. Skelton."
He said this knowing that Mr. Skelton was detested by the Prince, who had made his residence in Holland unendurable to him. The dislike was returned by the Englishman, who was the close ally of M. D'Avaux in the attempt to expose and ruin the plans of William. William, however, had triumphed in ousting Skelton from The Hague, and his successor, D'Albeville, was, as M. D'Avaux knew to his vexation, a mean creature that no one could long depend on.
"Mr. Skelton," said the Prince, "is no doubt extremely useful in Paris. And I must ask you, Monsieur, to let me know the true object of this audience, which was not, I think, to discuss these puerile rumours."
The Frenchman flushed; he had always found the Prince difficult to come to conclusions with. William had a short, flashing way of scorn, an inscrutable calm, that even now, when, in his certain knowledge of the Prince's intended enterprise, M. D'Avaux felt he had the upper hand, was difficult to face.
M. D'Avaux felt himself, as always, confused and heated; he believed that the Prince was laughing at him and at France, and a wave of anger shook him both against the supine James who would not be roused, and his own government who would not credit half the information he sent home. He tried that dry directness which his opponent employed with such effect.
"Your Highness will scarcely deny that you intend a descent on England?"
"I should," answered William, "be a fool if I did not deny it when asked by you, Monsieur."
M. D'Avaux thrust his cane into the crevices of the stone pedestal of the sundial.
"Whatever Your Highness may say—I know."
"Ah!" answered William, "but can you prove?"
"To the satisfaction of my own intelligence, Monseigneur," said M. D'Avaux vigorously. "You cannot suppose that I have been unobservant as to your measures since the beginning of the year."
William kept his eyes fixed on the carp sluggishly moving round the fountain basin.
"It would interest me, M. D'Avaux," he said, "to hear what you have discovered of these measures of mine."
"You shall hear, Monseigneur." The Frenchman spoke as one spurred and goaded. "For one thing, I know that you obtained four million guilden from the States for repairing the fortifications of Brabant—that this money was to be payable in four years, and you have raised it in one. Your Highness hath the money, and the forts are untouched."
William was silent.
"Another public fund of equal value you have diverted from its proper use; you have farmed out the revenues of the Admiralty, and this, with your own great fortune, maketh Your Highness master of a huge treasure—apart from the money you are constantly raising among the French and English refugees. For what purpose is all this wealth intended?"
"You say you know," replied William, without looking up. "And, my faith, what kind of an answer can you expect from me?"
"Your Highness can give no good reason."
"None of any sort, to you, on any part of my conduct," said the Prince coldly. "You already overstep your province."
Pale, but firm, M. D'Avaux stood his ground.
"I do not overstep my duty to my master if I ask why Your Highness persuaded the States to build forty new ships of war, and secretly added twelve by your own authority—why these ships were sent publicly to remote stations and secretly brought back—why a great army is encamped at Nymwegen—why M. Bentinck is so continually closeted with the Elector and Your Highness with the States, the German Princes, the Landgrave of Hesse and M. Castagnana—why seven thousand Swedish mercenaries have been hired, and a huge number of Dutch soldiers and sailors secretly raised and privately drilled?"
The Prince turned his back to the sundial, so that he faced the Ambassador; his hands, clasped behind him, held his riding-whip; his face was inscrutable.
"Well, what else?" he asked dryly.
"Only this, that Your Highness and your creatures may deceive the King of England into thinking it is against Denmark and the Corsairs that all these preparations are being made, but you cannot so deceive the King of France."
"And yet," returned the Prince, "I thought His Majesty gave but a cold attention to your alarms."
This, accompanied by a pointed smile, told M. D'Avaux that William was quite well aware that it had not been so easy to rouse Louis to a sense of his danger. The Frenchman bit his lip; he had a master-stroke in reserve.
"Your Highness is a very able Prince," he said, on an oblique line of attack, "but my master pays well and is well served. I know who, under so many different names and pretences, purchaseth and hireth transport boats in so many different ports; I know who ordereth the bakers of Amsterdam to make biscuit, the saddlers to make bridles and saddles—why all the artillery is leaving the towns and coming down to the coasts—why magazines of hay are waiting in all the seaports, and why English noblemen are living furtively at The Hague."
He paused and looked narrowly at the Stadtholder, who, he was confident, must be taken aback at this knowledge of his plans; but the Prince was so immovable that the wild thought occurred to M. D'Avaux—is it really Denmark or his own country, as King James contends?
"I cannot conceive why you come to me with this," said William.
"To warn you, Monseigneur."
"Of what?" flashed the Prince.
"Of France," answered M. D'Avaux impressively.
William drew a deep breath.
"You should know better than to seek to frighten me, M. D'Avaux. I am not by nature timorous."
"I warn Your Highness," repeated the Ambassador. "I remind you that you are not a sovereign Prince."
"I rule a sovereign state, Monsieur."
"The first magistrate of a republic, Monseigneur, cannot behave as a king. Since Your Highness will give me no satisfaction, I shall go to the States."
"You will do as you wish," answered William; "but you are, nevertheless, perfectly well aware that I rule the States."
D'Avaux bowed.
"Give me credit for that discernment—the card I play is not an appeal from Your Highness to the States——"
"What then?"
The Frenchman moved a little farther back, still in a courtier's attitude, with his hat in his hand, looking intently at the Prince, who stood on the steps of the sundial with the violet daisies brushing his cloak and boots.
"Mr. Skelton hath prevailed on M. de Louvois to command me to say to the States that there is such friendship between His Majesty and King James that any attack on Britain would be regarded in the same light as an attack on France. That," added M. D'Avaux softly, "may make the States see their interests as different from those of Your Highness."
William gave not the least sign of surprise or confusion.
"So it is Mr. Skelton's advice to endeavour to frighten the States?" he remarked.
"I shall deliver my message to-morrow," said M. D'Avaux, "and then Your Highness will see if the States are prepared for an attack—an instant attack on their frontiers—if they are prepared to allow you and their whole strength to leave a country which France is menacing. You saved the Provinces in '72—without you they could not save themselves now——"
"You must follow out your instructions, Monsieur," said the Prince.
He stepped down from the sundial and looked narrowly at the Ambassador.
"You have nothing more to say?" he added.
"Nothing, Monseigneur, unless Your Highness can give me the assurances I was bid to ask——"
"What would be the use of that, Monsieur, when you know, as you say," returned the Stadtholder.
M. D'Avaux was slightly baffled; he thought that the Prince must betray more concern unless he had some counter-stroke to this of the threat to the States.
He answered with dignity—
"Then I need trouble Your Highness no further."
"Very well," answered William. "I am sorry that you have wasted your time, Monsieur; but I always was of a tolerably positive disposition, and difficult to turn."
"All Europe knoweth that," answered M. D'Avaux, with a little flush; for the Prince's words were an obvious assertion of the fact that he would not alter his plans for any French threats—an obvious challenge.
They walked down the hard gravel path between the beds of late roses. At the garden gate the Prince parted from M. D'Avaux with that simplicity which was his natural manner, but generally credited to him for guile.
"I am obliged to you for this courtesy," he said. "Au revoir, Monsieur."
"I thank Your Highness," answered M. D'Avaux, with a grand bow.
The Prince closed the gate on him, and went instantly into the house by the back entrance. And so straight to his private room, where a little company, consisting of M. Fagel, M. Bentinck, M. Dyckfelt, the envoy of M. Castagnana, Governor of the Spanish Netherlands, the envoy of the Elector of Hanover, a Prince of Lunenburgh, and the Landgrave of Hesse were awaiting him.
They all rose at his entrance. He came swiftly and breathlessly to the table, flung off his hat, and said—
"Gentlemen, M. D'Avaux knoweth everything—that villain D'Albeville hath betrayed us. There is a bomb to be dropped to-morrow that is like to blast us all."
CHAPTER X
THE ENGLISH AMBASSADOR
"M. D'Albeville?" echoed the Landgrave.
"It can be none other, Highness," answered William, with energy. "No one else was privy to my Lord Sunderland his part——"
Fagel gave a quick exclamation.
"He knoweth that?"
"Yes—he scenteth it," said the Stadtholder grimly. "And he hath a pretty idea of the preparations, only he doth not guess either their magnitude nor their forwardness."
He seated himself, and the others took their places again. There was, in the whole assembly, a breathless air of expectation and excitement. The room was full of steady mellow sunshine, which brought out every detail of the persons of the gentlemen about the walnut table and glimmered in the fair hair of M. de Lunenburgh, who sat facing the window.
The Stadtholder glanced round these intent faces and took off his gloves, unclasped his cloak, and said, in a passionate voice, directly addressing the Grand Pensionary—
"M. Fagel, the design is to frighten the States, by declaring that any design against England will at once provoke France into an attack on the Provinces."
M. Fagel was silent. This stroke was unexpected and tremendous. If Louis fell on the frontiers of the States, Their High Mightinesses would certainly not permit the Prince and the army to sail for England.
"You know my opinion," continued William, looking at the Spaniard, "that if M. de Castagnana can but keep Ostend, Mons, and Namur till the spring, I shall then have settled this English business, and be able to return with a sufficient force to drive the French out of Flanders."
"I think," said M. Fagel, "that the States would not take the risks, and this threat from France will have a very ill effect among the common people."
"And," added M. Dyckfelt, who had primary charge of English affairs, "if M. D'Avaux and M. Skelton succeed in undeceiving King James as to the true design of M. de Sunderland that would be a shrewd blow——"
"One which shall not be delivered," said the Prince firmly. "M. de Sunderland is the one man who can keep the foreign intelligence from the King, and he stayeth in office. M. D'Albeville is a dirty tool, but there is more use to be got out of him——"
"But he, Your Highness, you say hath betrayed us?" questioned M. de Hesse.
"And now he can betray them," said William. "By Heaven, Highness, do you think we, at this stage of our endeavours, shall trip over an insect like this D'Albeville?"
He finished his sentence with a smile at M. de Hesse. He was himself of a German House, a German Prince and a Grandee of the Holy Empire, and had alway an affection for and a powerful influence over the Landgraves, Electors, and Princes who made up the German confederacy.
de Hesse responded—
"We are, as ever, ready to do what Your Highness thinketh fit in this juncture."
"Ah!" answered William warmly. "I should do ill to fail with such friends——"
"Should we not," asked M. Bentinck, "consult with some of the English at The Hague?"
"No," said the Stadtholder firmly. "They have none of them any conception of continental affairs, and at present are engaged in disputing over the form of the Declaration, for they seem already to be split into very decided parties."
M. Fagel and M. Dyckfelt both considered it a mistake not to more fully trust the English nobles, but both were aware that the Prince's distrust of that nation (but too well founded on experience) was not to be shaken.
The German Princes and Ministers were willing enough to keep the threads of the coalition as much as possible in their own hands, and none of them could believe that a youth like Lord Shrewsbury and an eccentric rake like Lord Mordaunt could be of use in serious counsels.
The envoy of the Elector of Hanover proceeded to lay before William the plans for the fortifications of the Rhine which the Germans had agreed to defend with troops, replacing those withdrawn by the States, in the same way as M. de Castagnana had engaged to fortify the frontier of Brabant on the side of Flanders.
William surveyed the plans and listened to the explanations, in which the Landgrave and M. de Lunenburgh eagerly joined, with an elated satisfaction which even the stroke about to be dealt by M. D'Avaux could not destroy. His spirits, as ever, rose with increasing difficulties and dangers, and after having to listen to the thousand, to him, paltry arguments of the English party leaders, this talk of the real heart of affairs, the hand-to-hand grips with France, had a ringing pleasure for his ears.
M. Fagel, withdrawn into the window embrasure, was speaking with William Bentinck, a tall, fair, and handsome man, of a quiet dignity, a few years older than the Stadtholder, and that Prince's closest friend, of the probable effect of this move planned by the wit and watchfulness of Mr. Skelton and M. D'Avaux, when an usher entered to inform His Highness that the English Ambassador requested an immediate audience.
William was roused at once from his maps and papers, and a movement of excitement silenced the low, serious voices.
"M. D'Albeville!" exclaimed the Stadtholder. His eyes flashed, and he rose. "Conduct him here."
As the usher left, all looked at the Prince.
"Why should he come?" asked M. de Lunenburgh.
William laid his hand affectionately on the German's brown velvet sleeve.
"My child," he said softly, "whatever he hath come for, we will turn him to our own uses."
At this moment the English Ambassador entered, amid an absolute silence; he paused on the threshold and glanced at the men before him: the Stadtholder between M. de Lunenburgh, the Landgrave and the Hanoverian envoy at the opposite side of the dark circular walnut table; the Spaniard, very splendid in gold brocade that caught the sun, standing with his back to the hearth, and opposite him in the dazzling length of the window M. Bentinck with the two Dutch ministers.
So were gathered in this small, plain room representatives of the most of the members of the huge coalition which the formidable Stadtholder had laboured so long to combine against France; and M. D'Albeville, standing for England, equally precious both to these allies and to Louis, instinctively drew back a little, as one who has stepped among silent enemies.
He was a slight Irishman, and had been handsome, but dissipation, poverty, and meanness had given him a haggard and livid appearance; he wore gaudy, but tarnished, finery, and a huge red-brown peruke that hung in knots of heavy curls either side his sharp face.
"I desired a private audience, Highness," he said, speaking in perfect French.
"We are private here, M. le Marquis," answered William, handing the packet of papers back to M. de Hesse. "And we are glad that you have come, for we had business to discuss with you."
He seated himself at that, and M. D'Albeville came to the opposite side of the table, so directly facing him; the others remained standing.
"You," said William, with energy, "have been trying to fool me, M. le Marquis. You have seen fit to convey warnings to the court of England and to M. D'Avaux."
The look of fear that was never quite absent from the Irishman's face deepened; he seemed to shrink into his stiff buckram and brocade clothes.
"So God help me——" he began.
"Oh, enough of your oaths!" cried the Prince, in a sudden burst of fury. "Do you think I have time to listen to your cursed excuses? How much have you told that damned Frenchman?"
So direct, terrible, and sincere was his passion that the object of it retreated towards the door, and even the spectators were awed.
"I protest," answered the Ambassador, dry-lipped, "I have told nothing. I have sent reassuring messages to His Majesty, as Your Highness knoweth——"
"Were you not well enough paid for them," demanded William fiercely, "that you must go cry your wares in the French market?"
"Monseigneur, you are misinformed——"
The Prince cut him short.
"M. D'Avaux hath been told of M. de Sunderland's part—you told him. Hath King James been warned also?"
"I came to tell Your Highness so," stammered M. D'Albeville. "Not by me, God knoweth; but I had this morning a message——"
"From whom?"
"Not from my Lord Sunderland—direct from His Majestybidding me ask the States the reason of the preparations of Your Highness——"
The Stadtholder glanced at his friends; he was still taut with passion. Dealing with mean creatures such as this roused that rare fury in him that brought him out of himself.
"So now you are afraid, eh?" he asked. "You are not quite so sure which is the winning side, M. le Marquis——"
M. D'Albeville came nearer the table. Another fear conquered his fear of the terrible Prince.
"I cannot go on," he said feverishly. "I dare not. I can help you no more, Monsieur. I must deliver that message, and I must tell the King everything——"
"You will deliver the message," interrupted William grimly; "but you will not open the eyes of His Majesty until I bid you."
The Irishman clutched his hand on his breast, with a contortion of terror and despair on his face. He had been playing fast and loose between France and Holland so long that he scarcely knew how far he had betrayed one to the other, only that of late he had kept the greater faith with the Prince, who terrorized him, as did all the English envoys, except those he won by friendship, such as Temple and Sidney.
M. D'Albeville was now convinced that, in view of the coming French action, the Prince could not succeed, and he wished fervently that he was before James or Louis that he might gain a good price by telling what he knew of William's plans. He already regretted having come before His Highness, yet he had not dared act without warning him, and had been in some hopes of persuading him of his own faith and use.
Disappointed in this, he groaned aloud, began a feeble sentence that died on his lips, and cast a furtive glance for a way of escape.
This did not fail of notice by the Prince.
"Bentinck," he said, "look to the door."
That nobleman stepped quietly in front of it, and the wretched Ambassador shrilled a protest.
"Doth Your Highness intend violence?"
"I intend to make use of you, Monsieur!" cried the Prince. "We are men in earnest. Do you think that we should allow you to in any way incommode us?"
"It will be Tower Hill for me!" cried M. D'Albeville. "I dare keep silent no longer—if my Lord President goeth, what protection have I got?"
"M. de Sunderland shall not go until I have sailed from Helvoetsluys," said William. "How much hath M. D'Avaux promised you for telling everything to the Court of St. James?"
M. D'Albeville shrugged, but obviously brightened as the talk changed to money.
"You are quite mistaken, Your Highness——"
"How much was it?" interrupted William.
"Naturally, if I could help M. D'Avaux—I should expect some consideration for the trouble——"
The Prince for a moment took his great eyes from the Irishman and addressed a rapid sentence in Dutch to M. Dyckfelt, who at once went to the Chinese bureau at the side of the fireplace and unlocked a drawer.
"I must deliver the message to the States," said M. D'Albeville, between cringing and defiance. He was really afraid of what might have happened in England—Sunderland might be in disgrace, and the whole intrigue discovered by James, for all he knew.
"It is my wish that you should," answered William. "It will come very pat with M. D'Avauxhismessage."
M. Dyckfelt put on the table a gold standish, a sheet of paper, and a casket, which last the Prince kept before himself.
"M. le Marquis," he said, "you will do me one more service—you will write to His Majesty that his suspicions are quite unfounded, that my preparations, you are assured, are against Denmark, and that no credit is to be given to the tales of M. Skelton and M. D'Avaux about M. de Sunderland."
The Ambassador's face became absolutely blanched; he moistened his lips, and murmured, "I dare not—I dare not," between dry breaths.
"You dare not refuse," answered William. "I could so expose you that not a court in Europe would employ you. Besides, it is enough that I command you. Sit down and write."
D'Albeville came slowly nearer the table.
"I would do anything to serve Your Highness, but not this—it is too late—it has gone too far——"
"Write," said the Stadtholder briefly. "I pay well, you know that."
M. D'Albeville sat down in the chair opposite the paper and standish.
"But His Majesty will learn from others, and I shall be recalled and" ... he complained miserably ... "death ... treason is death. Oh, my God, I cannot do——"
"M. le Marquis," interrupted William, "His Majesty is simple enough to trust you, and for the rest I protect those whom I use."
M. D'Albeville shivered and took up the pen. He had, and knew it, no chance with the Prince, whose potent personality always completely mastered his. He dared not, from some sheer unnameable fear, refuse or resist, but the damp stood on his brow and his heart was cramped at the thought of the possible vengeance of the master whom he was betraying.
"You know what to write," said William. "Put it in your own hand and your own style—you do not, I think, use cipher——"
Tears of terror, rage, and mortification stood in the Irishman's eyes. He had come to excuse himself from a service that had become too dangerous, and found himself overpowered into going still greater lengths. He could not bring himself to write the letter which would eventually cut him off from all hope of pardon from England.
"He shall write," said the Prince, in a low tone, to M. de Hesse, "if I have to hold a pistol to his head the while."
And he came softly round behind the Ambassador's chair.
"Gentlemen," complained M. D'Albeville, "is this a way to treat the representative of His Britannic Majesty?"
The Landgrave and M. de Lunenburgh closed nearer round him.
M. D'Albeville looked up at the grave faces bent on him, and began to write.
"Make haste," said the Prince, drawing a round filigree watch from his pocket and glancing at the time.
The Ambassador groaned and drove his pen the faster; in a few moments the sheet of paper was covered, sanded, and signed.
"There is my ruin, Highness," said M. D'Albeville dramatically, handing it with shaking fingers.
"Men like you are never ruined," returned the Prince. He glanced over the letter, ill spelt, ill expressed, but all that Sunderland would need to quiet the fears of his master.
The Prince folded it across, and M. D'Albeville held out his hand.
"By your leave, M. le Marquis, I will post this." William opened the casket M. Dyckfelt had brought from the Chinese bureau, and took out a couple of little linen bags, which he slid along the table towards the crumpled figure of the Ambassador; the glint of gold could be seen between the wide meshes. "The audience is over," he added dryly.
M. D'Albeville got to his feet and began to pick up the money and thrust it into the huge flap pockets of his silver-branched coat, making the while little sounds of protest, and shaking his head dismally.
"Listen," said the Prince vigorously. "You will give your message to the States to-morrow, and you will send no letters of any kind to England until I request you to——"
"I am always the servant of Your Highness," said M. D'Albeville with a dreary submission, yet with a kind of satisfaction in the bribe that lay heavy in his pockets; the Prince always paid better than M. D'Avaux, kept short by M. de Louvois, who disliked him.
"All packets leaving our ports are watched," remarked William. "So do not try to send any secret messages to England."
The Ambassador picked up his white-plumed hat, that had fallen to the floor, then came towards the Prince with a humble gesture, as if he would have kissed his hand; but William drew back with a haughty disgust that brought a blush even to M. D'Albeville's brazen cheek. He withdrew backwards, M. Bentinck opened the door for him, and closed it after he had departed, bowing.
"By Heaven!" burst out the Landgrave, "to think that a great nation should send as representative such a rascal!"
"His Majesty hath always been unlucky, Highness," answered William, "in the gentlemen he sendeth to The Hague. To use such tools!" he added impatiently; "but I think we have checkmated M. D'Avaux.—M. Fagel," he turned swiftly to the Grand Pensionary, "you see your part? The two messages will come the same day, and you are to protest that there must be some secret alliance between France and England that the States have been kept in the dark about, and that we can give no answer till that is explained; you must feign alarm which will further inflame the people against France and her designs, and so we may provoke King James into repudiating the French alliance and offending His Christian Majesty."
Having thus indicated the policy that his genius had instantly conceived, he paused with a little cough, then laughed, which he seldom did save when he had discomfited some one. He laughed now, thinking of M. D'Avaux, and there was a malicious note in it that would not have pleased that diplomat to hear.
The German princes laughed also, in a more good-natured fashion, and the whole company moved from their places with a sense that a final resolve had been reached.
"Come, gentlemen," said the Prince in his tired voice, "I think we have earned our dinner."
He handed to M. Fagel the letter written by M. D'Albeville.