And John De Witt, responding to a questioning look from Nominoë, added: "Listen, my son, the lesson is grave and instructive--listen. My friends, my brother and myself (we are given the name of the 'French party') now about ten years ago, in 1662, used all our influence with the Assembly of the States to bind the Republic in a close alliance with France, our natural ally, as we considered her. Louis XIV was then quite young; if he exhibited certain foibles of youth, I considered him gifted with their reciprocal virtues--honesty, generosity, faithfulness to his pledged word. The King pledged himself to assist the Republic in the event of a war with England, and to respect the territory of Spanish Flanders, in accord with the act of renunciation of the treaty of the Pyrenees. But what happened? The increasing prosperity of our commerce, which extends from one end of the world to the other, our maritime preponderance and our wealth awakened the jealousy and cupidity of our neighbors; besides, the very existence of our Republic, ever more and more flourishing, seemed to Louis XIV a dangerous example to his own people. Accordingly, winning England to his side with bribes, he drove her to declare war against us, and, so far from keeping faith with us, and assisting us with his fleets, he not only did not furnish us a single ship--no, I err, he did send us one, a fire ship--but he left us isolated to struggle with England single-handed, and capped the climax by finally dropping his mask, and also declaring war upon us, in concert with England." Perceiving the indignation marked upon Nominoë's face, John De Witt added: "I told you a minute ago, the people was wrong to believe me guilty of treachery, but the error is pardonable. My acts seem to bear witness against me. When the Republic saw me, my brother and my friends exert all our power to induce it to ally itself with Louis XIV, offering ourselves as a guarantee of the prince's good faith in his promises, the Republic placed confidence in us, and the alliance was concluded. To-day, we but suffer the consequences of the treason of Louis XIV." John De Witt paused for a moment and then proceeded: "But however great the iniquity of which I am a victim, do not pity me. My conscience is clear; I know I have lived the life of an honorable man and a good citizen. Should God call me to Him to-morrow, I shall go, serenely, and await his judgment. That, my son, is the moral of the lesson." As John De Witt was uttering these last words, listened to devoutly by Nominoë, Monsieur Tilly entered precipitately into the apartment. CHAPTER VI. CORNELIUS DE WITT. Monsieur Tilly, dressed in full uniform, wore the distinctive signs of his rank--a high collar and a scarf. He was pale, and so visibly disturbed that, struck by his appearance, John De Witt asked with alarm: "My friend--you must be the bearer of tidings that portend some public calamity?"