“Do you not think that I shall be as safe in Dresden as in Varsovia?” he asked.
“You are going to Dresden?”
“Eventually, dear. I return to the army in Saxony with messages from Augustus. Then I wish to see the Czar. My greatest hope is in him——”
“God preserve him,” said Hélène simply. “What will he do for you?”
“More than Augustus, I think. He is a man of genius. A tyrant, of course—no more a lover of liberty than Karl—but he serves our ends. Give him time and he will beat Sweden.”
“How happy you will be that day!” smiled the girl.
“If it means the freedom of Livonia,” he replied, looking at her earnestly.
Neither were paying much attention to what they were speaking of; they were thinking only of each other, of the wonder of these few moments and the long dark separation ahead of them; each in their heart was crying out against this parting; clinging to each other they spoke quietly to steady themselves and prolong these last farewells.
But now she could talk no more of politics, not even of those with which her lover’s life and happiness were bound up.
“When shall I see you again?” she stammered.