The King stared at him; the good of Sweden or any interest in her was far from the mind that was full of dreams of the conquest of Russia and the subjugation of Poland and Saxony.
Karl had completely abandoned the government of his country to the Council of Regency; he hardly troubled to acquaint himself with their proceedings, and often left unread the home dispatches.
Patriotism did not touch his dreams of the cold greatness he had conceived for himself. “I told my people,” he said, looking, not at his minister, but out of the window at the summer sunshine on the dusty road, “that I would never make an unjust war nor abandon a just one, without the punishment of the offenders.”
“Are not these same offenders already sufficiently punished?” demanded Piper quickly.
“No,” replied the King, and now his strange eyes showed a faint but fierce fire like those of a noble animal roused from slumber to anger. “Not unless they are dethroned.”
“Is it your Majesty’s ambition to wear these crowns?”
The King laughed shortly.
“I want nothing but to punish my enemies,” he replied. “What are crowns to me?”
Boastful as the words sounded, Count Piper believed they were sincere; he had already seen how, in the defeat of Denmark, Karl had astonished the world by demanding nothing for himself, and he could credit that Karl was capable of exhausting his country and spending himself in the effort to gain countries only to give them away when he had conquered them; he did not want Russia, only the pleasure of dethroning the Czar; he had no desire to reign over Poland, only the wish to seize that country from Saxony.
“I think your Majesty is wrong,” said the minister. “As one who was your father’s friend and is the friend of Sweden, forgive me if I say so, sire, if you stop now you are safe and glorious, if you go on, it may be to disaster.”