"It is thus that poor men love," said she to herself. "Kings are different."
All this time the Swedes were still in Saxony. Charles XII. was heartless and sardonic towards the King; severe towards the nobility; and a grievous burden to the country, for his soldiers went about catching men and enrolling them in the Swedish army. The treaty of peace had been signed, but Charles XII. would not leave Saxony.
So many humiliations, so many sacrifices, exhausted the patience of all, and caused despair in every heart. The arrogance of the Swedish monarch, who rode through the country attended by twenty or forty soldiers, disgusted every one.
One morning, when the King was busy presiding over a council of his ministers, Count Schulenberg was announced. The old man was invited to take part in the council, but he had no desire to speak, and begged a private audience.
When they were alone, the King inquired,--
"General, do you bring me the good tidings that the Swedes are going to leave us?"
"I am sorry that I cannot bring your Majesty such good tidings. But there might be a way of getting rid of them."
"The only way I know of would be if Heaven sent us its army, with the archangel Michael at its head."
"Your Majesty," interrupted Schulenberg, "I am sure that with a little desperate courage we could rid ourselves of them, without the help of the angels. There are twenty thousand Swedes scattered throughout Saxony; it is but a mere handful, that one man's daring renders terrible. Let us catch him, and the rest have lost their value."
"How can you say that? Catch him during peace, when he trusts us?"