“I have other bad news for your Majesty,” said he sadly. “King Stanislaus has been made a prisoner by the Turks and is being brought to Bender.”
Karl’s hard chest heaved and he raised his head as if to speak.
His eyes shot a fiery glance, but he was silent.
“A messenger came from Moldavia this morning,” continued M. Fabrice, “to say that the King was stopped at Jassy. He was traveling as a Swede with a message for your Majesty, but was recognized by the hospodar of Moldavia——”
“Why could he not stay in Pomerania?” demanded Karl sternly.
“Sire, he certainly hoped that his presence might accomplish what his letters have not been able to—and that he might persuade your Majesty to permit him to resign the crown you gave him.”
Karl rose impatiently, towering over the envoy, himself a tall man wearing a high peruke.
“No more of that, M. Fabrice,” he said. “I will not hear these arguments.”
But M. Fabrice insisted, thinking, not unnaturally, that his present misfortunes might soften the inflexible spirit of Karl.
“Sire, the King of Prussia offers a treaty whereby Poland and your Majesty league to keep the Czar in check. This cannot be until Stanislaus resigns his claim, and this he is willing to do—to benefit your Majesty whom he loves,” added M. Fabrice simply.