“Where is he better than us wretched mortals in that?” added the hot-hearted Prince.
“Indeed,” said the Pole, “he is quite hard in these things. He has never been known to grant mercy to those who offend him. There was a Livonian officer captured and sent to Sweden, sire, and there in Stockholm judged and condemned to death. The King would not listen to any entreaties, but this soldier persuaded the Swedes that he knew the secret of the philosopher’s stone, and the Queen-Mother sent to the camp to know if she might offer pardon to the man in exchange for his secret. But the King replied that he could not do for interest what he had refused to do for compassion. And the officer was beheaded.”
Peter had listened intently, his eyes full of a dark fire.
“Did the King believe that the man knew how to make gold?” he asked keenly.
“Sire, it is said that he did,” replied the Pole, “for a pure bar of gold was sent him that the prisoner had made in his cell before the Swedish councilors.”
“Then,” exclaimed the Czar, “this action shows a certain grandeur in him!”
But Mentchikoff was quick to seize on another aspect of the tale.
“Did you say this fellow was beheaded?”
“Yes, excellency.”
“And Patkul is to be broken on the wheel—and his crime is equal to that of this man. Where is the grandeur in that, Peter Alexievitch? Not the offense but the man is punished by this cruel sentence.”