And he had let her go, because he had shrunk from bringing her to Russia, among such company as the Czar kept.
But was she any happier now, in flight before the conqueror, and in what way, save for outward grossness, was Katherina worse than Aurora von Königsmarck, who pandered to a worse man, and exacted a higher price than did this peasant. While he was asking himself, with some bitterness, these questions, Peter, hitherto absorbed in his food, suddenly spoke:
“I shall keep you here, Patkul, Saxony is not worth your pains.”
The General flushed and started, the words came so pat on his reflections.
“I wish to return, sire,” he said.
“Why?” asked Peter, with a certain annoyance, but Katherina good-humoredly interfered.
“Why, let him go—his lady is there.”
Peter gave him a keen glance.
“You are safer in Russia,” he said. “Never trust a weakling,” he added shrewdly.
“Sire,” replied the Livonian, “as your envoy I am safe anywhere.”