He took up the lamp and went into a little cabinet that opened off the chamber, closing the door behind him.
The Saxons could not but stare at seeing the simplicity of the man who had conquered Northern Europe.
The plain room without hangings or carpet, the entire lack of servants or guard, the King’s own appearance and the way in which he waited on himself, caused them astonishment, and would, under other circumstances, have roused their contempt and disgust.
Count Piper noted their expressions and the glance they exchanged.
“Ah, gentlemen,” he said, “you do not know with whom you have to deal!”
“In what way, sir?” asked Baron D’Imhof, who felt more at ease in the presence of the minister than in that of the King.
“Your errand is desperate,” replied the Count, with some feeling for fellow diplomats in a hopeless position, “and the success of it, gentlemen, does not depend on any arts of your own.”
“No,” said M. Pfingsten, “but entirely on the disposition of the King of Sweden.”
“Exactly,” said Count Piper. “Your only hope is that you may excite compassion in the heart of a man who has never known a gentle emotion, and turn from his course the most obstinate creature who ever breathed.”
He smiled cynically, and made a movement with his hands as if he cast away the responsibility of his master’s actions.