It was M. D’Avaux, with whom she had some former acquaintance, who had urgently requested her to come to The Hague, and she was here, listening to him, but without enthusiasm, being more engaged in watching the great number of well-dressed people who passed up and down the wide, clean street. M. D’Avaux perhaps noticed her inattention, for he broke his discourse with an abrupt question. "Would you care to see a revolution in your country—’49 over again with the Prince of Orange in place of Cromwell?" She turned quickly, obviously startled. Though so indifferent to actual happenings, she was tenacious of tradition, and she felt a vast, though passive, admiration for the action of King James in re-establishing in his kingdoms the ancient faith that was hers. "Why—you mean——" she began, and paused, searching his face with puzzled dark eyes. "I mean, Madame," said M. D’Avaux strongly, "that your King is cutting away the supports that prop his throne—you must know something of the feeling in England." "Yes," she assented; "the trouble with the colleges, the declaration of Indulgence, and some rare malicious talk of the Prince of Wales—but nothing like—a revolution!" The Frenchman smiled. "Let me tell you some facts. When Henry Sidney was Envoy here he was in reality the channel of communication between the Opposition in England and His Highness—even since his recall he hath served the same turn—and these last months Edward Russell hath been coming and going with messages between the Prince and those great Protestants whom the King hath put out of office." "If this is known," cried Basilea, "surely it can be prevented—it is treason!" "What is treason in England, Madame, is loyalty at The Hague—and do you imagine that I have any influence with the States, who are entirely under the rule of the Prince?" "I have noticed," answered Basilea, "a monstrous number of English and French Protestants at The Hague, but thought they came here for a mere refuge." "They come here," said M. D’Avaux drily, "for revenge—since the Edict of Nantes was revoked all the Huguenots look to the Prince, and since he refused his assent to the declaration of Indulgence every Englishman who is not a Romanist looketh to him also." Basilea rose; the sunshine was over her curls and blue dress, and shook a red light from the garnets at her wrist; her eyes narrowed; she was interested by this clear talk of important events. "What could the Prince do?" she asked quietly. M. D’Avaux replied with some passion. "This is the tenth year of the uneasy peace forced on His Highness by His Majesty and the late King Charles, and not a month of that time that he hath not been working to be avenged on us for the terms we obtained then—he hath combined powers in secret leagues against us, he hath vexed and defied us at every turn, and he hath never, for one moment, ceased to intrigue for the help of England against us—in some final issue."