The clergy now essayed to attempt what ministers and soldiers had alike failed to effect.
Karl’s chaplain, coming forward, addressed him in stern tones.
“Has your Majesty considered how long and generously these Turks have succored you? What Christianity is it that so rudely returns such generosity? Have you considered your poor subjects who yet hope, after these weary years of wandering and of exile, to see their homes?”
In this the chaplain was seconded by some other pastors who threw themselves on their knees before the King.
Karl started to his feet; though the discipline of the Lutheran religion was peculiarly suited to his temperament, and the observance of its rules had always been a factor in his success, still there was little of the fanatic in him, and his long sojourn in Turkey had induced a considerable indifference towards Christianity in the heart of one who had always admired pagan virtues and pagan heroes.
He therefore viewed with real anger the interference of these pastors whose appearance at the conference he had hitherto hardly noticed.
His face flushed, and his blue eyes darkened ominously.
On the heads of the clergy broke all the anger the other remonstrants had failed to provoke.
“I keep you,” he said, with cutting anger, “to say prayers, and not to give me advice.”
With that and a general glance of contempt for the entire company he left the chamber, and the only man who dared follow him was Baron Görtz, a man of a spirit akin to his own.