“Which has been too long delayed, sire,” remarked General Patkul quietly; already the meeting between kings and ministers was several days old, and nothing had taken place but mutual compliments and mutual entertainments in which all had joined from Peter and Augustus to the meanest secretary in their train; Patkul, the only man who had kept quite aloof, was probably the only man in Birsen now completely sober; it was the reaction from debauch that had plunged Peter into melancholy, and Augustus was heavy-headed and heavy-eyed.
“Too long delayed,” he agreed smoothly. “Karl will not spend much longer before Narva—why, having achieved his end, he cannot go home——”
Peter looked up.
“Achieved his end?” he questioned.
“Has he not got back Holstein-Gottorp and checked the invasion into his Baltic provinces?”
“And you think that was his end!” exclaimed the Czar contemptuously. “No, he wishes to dethrone you and me.”
Augustus laughed at this abrupt statement.
“A second Alexander? Not in these times, sire,” he replied. “Not even a vain boy would dream of world conquest now—especially after the lessons of Ryswick; what Louis could not accomplish Karl will hardly attempt.”
“I think that he will,” said Peter, measuring the Swede’s spirit by his own.
He was seconded by the Livonian.