security and until the dispute should be concluded.

"And that will never be," said James; "never, never. The States are
powerful enough to carry on the war all alone and against all the world."

And so he went on, furiously reiterating the words with which he had
begun the conversation, "without accepting any reasons whatever in
payment," as poor Caron observed.

"It makes me very sad," said the Ambassador, "to find your Majesty so
impatient and so resolved. If the names of the kings are to be omitted
from the document, the Treaty of Xanten should at least be modified
accordingly."

"Nothing of the kind," said James; "I don't understand it so at all. I
speak plainly and without equivocation. It must be enough for the States
that I promise them, in case the enemy is cheating or is trying to play
any trick whatever, or is seeking to break the Treaty of Xanten in a
single point, to come to their assistance in person."

And again the warlike James swore a big oath and smote his breast,
affirming that he meant everything sincerely; that he cheated no one,
but always spoke his thoughts right on, clearly and uprightly.

It was certainly not a cheerful prospect for the States. Their chief
ally was determined that they should disarm, should strip themselves
naked, when the mightiest conspiracy against the religious freedom and
international independence of Europe ever imagined was perfecting itself
before their eyes, and when hostile armies, more numerous than ever
before known, were at their very door. To wait until the enemy was at