He advanced and kissed the King’s hand with the air of one bringing good news; he also had been trying his good offices with the Khan, and had obtained this favor—that an express should be sent to Adrianople, where the Sultan then was, to demand if in reality extreme measures were to be taken against the King of Sweden, and in the meanwhile permission to allow provisions to be sent to the King.
Karl received this very coldly.
“You are a voluntary mediator, sir,” he said. “I ask for no favor at the hands of the Sultan.”
“Nor did I, sire,” replied the Englishman. “But it is possible that the Porte may repent of the delayed severity of these orders, and in any case this gives your Majesty time to leave with dignity.”
“M. Jeffreys,” remarked the King, with freezing coldness, “as you leave my house you will see my entrenchments.”
“Can it be possible——” began the minister.
“Sir,” interrupted the King, “more things are possible than you may dream of. I do not want your mediation. Nor do I want the provisions of the Turks. What I need I can pay for.”
The Englishman, who, in common with every man present, had lent the King money and knew the difficulty Poniatowski had in raising forced loans in Constantinople, thought this pride as ill-timed as the King’s obstinacy, but he knew that it was in keeping with Karl’s character, and that he did not speak out of flaunting vanity but from that superb disregard of money that he had always possessed; gold and human life, worldly dignities, and common prudence had alike been always too utterly disregarded by the King of Sweden.
“I will mingle no more in the affairs of a monarch so inflexible,” said the Englishman, with a slight smile, as he prepared to retire.
“A wise resolution, M. Jeffreys,” replied the King gravely.