“Sire,” he asked, “will you condemn to a miserable death, at the hands of the infidel, these poor Swedes, the remnant of your victories?”
“I know, by those victories, that you know how to obey,” replied the King sternly. “Till now you have done your duty, General Hord—continue to do it to-day.”
M. Fabrice now found his voice.
“Sire,” he said, “I was with the Khan, and on leaving him met Ismail Pasha; from what I learnt it is but too true that they have received orders from the Porte that every Swede who resists is to be slain, even to your Majesty!”
“Have you seen this order?” demanded the King quietly.
“Yes,” replied M. Fabrice, “the Khan showed it to me.”
“Well,” said Karl, “tell them from me that I give another order—and that is that no Swede leaves Bender.”
M. Fabrice was in despair; he glanced at the sad faces of Karl’s faithful friends who had suffered such pains and hardships for him, and he felt it was unendurable that all should end in a useless death.
He fell on his knees, grasping the skirts of the King’s coat.
“For the sake of these others, sire, who are all that are left to you, out of so many who have perished for your sake——”