Sunderland upheld him; to consent to the Bill would be an enormous concession to the people, and my lord had no love for the democracy, but, like William, had a high ideal of the rights of the Crown. He took pleasure now in thinking of the King’s firm stand and the disappointment of this crowd when the news of the vetoed Bill was flashed from mouth to mouth. As he watched, standing within the silver-corded curtains, a party of halberdiers suddenly scattered the people to right and left, a company of soldiers drove up, and then the Royal coach came, unusually fast, swinging on its leathers. A deep hum rose from the crowd; some broke into cheering, hats were thrown up, and handkerchiefs waved. Sunderland had never seen the King receive such a cordial reception. He withdrew from the window, surprised, a little puzzled. The satisfied murmur of the crowd continued. "Why—is it possible——" cried my lord. He hastened to seek out the King. William was in his dressing-room, disrobing. M. Zulestein was with him, and several other nobles. Gold-embroidered purple, scarlet and ermine, the collar and star of the George lay tossed on one of the gilt walnut chairs; the King, in silk shirt and white satin breeches, sat by a marquetry dressing-table with a letter in his hand. Sunderland entered as one sure of his welcome. William had promised him countenance if he would come to Court. "Your Majesty——" he began. The King looked at him blankly; his face, between the dark curls, was of a startling whiteness. "Ah, sir," said Sunderland, "do I break in upon Your Majesty?" "No," answered William vaguely. My lord looked round the other nobles; they seemed strangely silent. "Sir, how went it in Parliament?" he asked, approaching the King. William made a heavy effort to answer. "I—well enough—they——" His voice trailed off. Sunderland stood utterly amazed. Was this man going to fail? "Sir, the Triennial Bill?" he questioned half fearfully. The King rose; he seemed utterly unnerved; he whom my lord had ever considered beyond the touch of weakness. "I passed it," he said faintly. The colour flashed into Sunderland’s face. "You did!" he cried. "You made that great concession. By God, if any but Your Majesty had made that statement I should have disbelieved them——" The King did not seem to hear him; he called distractedly for his coat, and walked up and down the splendid little chamber with his head bent. Sunderland, sick at heart, drew M. de Zulestein aside. "What is the matter with the King?" he whispered. "I should not have known him——" "He hath been all day like a man in a confusion," answered the Master of the Robes. "And to give way," muttered Sunderland. "To concede like any weakling!" William mechanically took from one of the lords his coat, sword, and hat, and stood still a moment before the chair on which his orders glittered on his robes, like frozen coloured water gleaming in the winter sunlight.