“I killed three bears,” said Karl; he laughed again, showing his strong, perfect teeth.
“You spend your time well,” said the old Queen bitterly. “And now you will sleep all the afternoon, and drink all the evening. And to-morrow the chase again.”
“And three more bears,” smiled the King.
His grandmother looked at him with a coldness that approached aversion.
“Your father’s death was a great misfortune,” she said—“for Sweden.”
“Sweden does very well,” returned Karl indifferently.
“That,” put in Count Piper gently, “is a question that your Majesty must better acquaint yourself with.”
Karl lifted his head which had sunk forward on his broad chest; his face was flushed and his eyes bloodshot; he spoke thickly.
“No councils of state—no councils of state, and dull speeches and silly disputes,” he said.
“And no interviews with your wretched sister and her ruined husband, who are here to crave your succor,” added the Queen sarcastically.