“I think, sire, that he will, when he is desperate, fight,” replied Stanislaus. “When the Cardinal Primate make public your Majesty’s ultimatum, the Elector will make an effort to redeem his fortunes.”
“I hope so,” said Karl dryly; “he needs a further lesson. Is he not now at Cracovia?”
It was Count Piper who answered.
“The last advices are, sire, that he has gathered the nobility of that province about him, and awaits the arrival of the Saxon troops.”
“We will advance on Cracovia,” said Karl calmly, “and when we have taken that city, we will decide the question of the crown of Poland.”
With these words, spoken too dryly to savour of pomp or bombast, Karl smiled at the young Palatine of Posen, and left the room with a brief salute to the others.
“He will make himself King of Poland,” said Stanislaus Leczinski, as the door closed.
“He will not,” answered Count Piper, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “That would be too ordinary an exploit to please His Majesty’s temper.”
“What can he do more astonishing or more magnificent than to take a crown from his enemy’s brow to place on his own!” exclaimed the young Palatine, turning his frank, pleasant face towards the Swede. “And I for the first,” he added, with genuine admiration in his voice, “would be ready to acclaim him in the greatness that he has so nobly won.”
“You do not know the King,” said Count Piper dryly. “His pride is to be the arbiter of other men’s destinies—he would not consider himself made greater by another crown; his is a lofty pride, and a strict if hard code of honor; he would disdain to turn a defensive and punitive war into one of conquest. You will see that, as in the treaty with Denmark, he will ask nothing for himself—unless it be one thing.”