“But it is no object to him to make peace,” said the King-Elector uneasily. “Doubtless he will prefer the glory of overrunning Poland and possibly Saxony.”
Aurora did not yet mention what made her feel sure that the King of Sweden might be brought to reason; she was sure that her project would be distasteful to Augustus, and she was waiting her moment to broach it; twisting one of her long ringlets round the slender fingers of her left hand that sparkled with some of the Saxon jewels, she frowned into the flames.
“No,” added Augustus gloomily. “I see no hope—’tis a youthful captain, intoxicated with success, inured and implacable by nature. I believe he fights for glory, and nothing, to him, would be greater glory than the conquest of Poland—by arms and by intrigues. He thinks to dethrone me by means of factions—look how he has armed the Sapieha against me and torn Lithuania with civil war——”
“I know,” interrupted Aurora, curbing some impatience; it seemed to her that Augustus went round and round the same points, in a confused manner, which was irritating to her own clear mind that looked ahead to ultimate issues. “But the trial might be made.”
“It would have to be secret,” said the King-Elector, “and kept very carefully from the ears of Patkul and the Czar.”
“Naturally,” replied the Countess drily. “The Czar will be easily hoodwinked; as for Patkul, it is he who is the cause of all this trouble, if need be he must be sacrificed.”
Augustus turned a startled face.
“Patkul?”
“Yes, Patkul, this adventurer who has embroiled us all!”
“You mean that I should surrender him to Karl?”