“And that?” asked Stanislaus.
“John Rheingold Patkul.”
“The Czar’s envoy!”
“To Karl a rebel—and undoubtedly the Livonian was the arch-conspirator in this plot to despoil Sweden.”
Stanislaus did not reply; his secret sympathies were with Patkul, whom he believed to be sincerely working for his own oppressed country, but his interest and his admiration lay with Karl; the strange figure of the young conqueror fascinated his chivalrous and ardent nature, and he had been flattered by the notice of so remarkable a man.
His wish to see Karl King of Poland was sincere; this was the type of king he desired for a country to which he was attached with a strong affection; he had never liked the indolent good-natured Saxon.
“Naturally,” added Count Piper, with a glance at the Swedish officers, “I shall do my utmost to persuade His Majesty to accept the crown of Poland if it is offered to him; it would be a safe, sound step that would bring Sweden some return for the expense of this war—but the King,” he added with meaning, “is not likely to take my advice.”
The Palatine did not think any the worse of Karl for this; he was headstrong and independent himself, and could appreciate that a man in the position of intoxicating glory occupied by the King of Sweden would refuse to be led by the advice of a mere politician.
“Perhaps,” he said, with his native pleasantness, “we may be able to move His Majesty to our wishes.”
Smiling, he picked up his gaily-feathered hat, and went out to find the King who he knew at this hour would be taking one of his lonely rides round Praga.