In the early days of April, King Karl took private leave of his family (a cold farewell of his sisters and the Queen), and, accompanied by Count Piper, the Duke of Holstein-Gottorp, and General Rehnsköld, left his capital for the port of Karlskrona, where he embarked on his flagship “The King Karl,” which was mounted with 120 pieces of cannon, and at the head of forty-three ships set sail for Copenhagen, on his first campaign.
As the shores of Sweden were receding behind them Count Piper told the King that he had heard that Viktoria Falkenberg was very ill; he had wondered that Karl had not remarked her absence from attendance on his sister.
“Ah, Viktoria Falkenberg,” said the King thoughtfully. He offered no comment, and that was the last time he ever spoke her name.
BOOK II
PETER ALEXIEVITCH
“C’etait par des actions plus étonnantes que des victoires qu’il cherchait le nom de Grand.”—Voltaire.
CHAPTER I
THE short Russian summer was in the commencement of its glory; a clear sunshine penetrated the groves of beeches and firs, the thickets of lilac and senna plant, and shone on the brilliant flowers that carpeted the woods which spread about the wide estuary at the mouth of the Neva. Here and there, through the radiant blossoms, could be seen a glimpse of cold blue sea; the sky was of the pale green tint peculiar to the last hours of the day; no sound disturbed the peace of the little house on the lake in the woods, the residence that it pleased the Czar of Russia to call “Marli,” in imitation of the French King, and which was one of his favorite places of retreat, being, indeed, more suited to his tastes than the gorgeous palaces he had built in Russia and the antique magnificence of the Kremlin.
It had also the advantage of being near to Cronstadt, the port he was building and in which he took such a personal interest, where he kept the nucleus of the Navy he was creating and of which he was so intensely proud, and where he had personally worked at some of the twenty-six trades that he had learnt in his journey through Europe.
Save during the brief loveliness of the summer there was little beauty in these marshy woods; neither birds nor animals seemed to inhabit them and the stillness and the vastness added to the melancholy of the solitude.