“No,” replied the King more gently, “I have no doubt as to your loyalty—nor as to that of any with me.”
“The generals are in despair, sire.”
“They have rusted too long—like my sword,” remarked the King briefly. “Have you any other news, Grothusen?”
He spoke as if he would dismiss the subject of their present position, and Grothusen endeavored to follow his humor, though indeed there was no subject on which he could speak that would be particularly pleasing to either.
“M. Müllern had an express this morning to say that King Stanislaus was still on his way to the Turkish frontier.”
“He is my friend,” replied Karl. “Were he not I should call him weak and foolish.”
In truth, the inflexibility of the King of Sweden had for some time been forced by the pliability of the man whom he had made King of Poland.
Stanislaus, faithful as Karl to an ancient friendship, had, on being driven from the Polish throne, gone to Pomerania to defend the dominions of his benefactor.
After many vicissitudes he had resolved to abandon the crown that was the real cause of contention between Karl and his enemies, and by admitting the claim of Augustus to pave the way for a peace for Sweden.
To this end he had written to Karl several times begging him to leave him in retirement, and not for his already lost cause to risk blood, treasure, or his own advantages.