The King’s obstinate blue eyes did not falter; his lips were curved in a smile too indifferent for disdain but more freezing than contempt.
“Think, sire,” continued Count Piper energetically, “of the size and resources of these three countries—Saxony will have all the German States behind him—Russia is a continent.”
Karl’s face now betrayed where his principal hate lay.
“Peter is a savage commanding savages,” he replied; “the whip and not the sword is necessary to disperse his hordes.”
“You think of Narva,” said Count Piper, “but he will learn. He will train his men.”
“And if he does?” demanded Karl coldly, “what of the passage of the Dwina? Am I not able to resist veteran troops?”
The minister could not deny the truth of this; to all appearance Karl was invincible, yet the Count’s heart utterly misgave him at thought of the gigantic enterprise to which the King appeared to have pledged himself.
“It is purposeless, sire, and useless,” he said with vigor. “Sweden could never hold these conquests if she made them; Europe would not permit it, nor her own strength. You have made her secure and powerful, respected and feared; have the strength, sire, to stop. This is not the age for sheer conquest. War bars the progress of mankind. Sweden requires your Majesty’s genius for her internal reforms; you do not know yet your own country—your father, sire, knew it from end to end.”
If the King considered this speech too much of a reproof he did not say so nor show his resentment by the slightest sign.
“You think I should return to Stockholm, Count?” he asked.