“I do not argue,” he said. “These are my terms.”
“But General Patkul,” urged M. Pfingsten anxiously, “is an envoy of the Czar, and as such sacred——”
“Since when,” interrupted Karl, with a biting contempt, “has the Muscovite claimed the privileges of civilized rulers? Patkul is my subject, a deserter and a traitor.”
“The conditions are very bitter,” said Baron D’Imhof. “Let your Majesty reflect if they are such as a Christian Prince can accept.”
“Well,” replied Karl, with his cold air of stubborn hardihood, “no doubt I can find another Elector for Saxony as I found another King for Poland.”
“We may, sire, discuss these terms with Count Piper?” asked M. Pfingsten, clutching at straws.
“As much as you wish,” said Karl, with a stern smile. “Count Piper knows my mind and if I am likely to change it.”
“I have already warned these gentlemen,” remarked the minister.
Karl now turned and with a rude coldness was leaving the chamber.
Count Piper gave the piece of paper that had so tremendous a meaning to the confused and humiliated deputies of Augustus.