“Your Majesty is not just to yourself,” replied the Count.
An expression of bewilderment crossed the King’s face; he put his strong, blood-stained hand to his forehead.
Count Piper could not repress a movement of impatience.
“Yes, your Majesty is drunk,” he replied, “and at this moment three Kingdoms are in league against you--to deprive you of all you have.”
There was no response in the attitude or expression of the King.
Count Piper tried the name that had roused him to such passionate violence before.
“Is the son of Karl XI going to permit the Czar of Muscovy to add so easily to his laurels?”
“Why are these three princes at war with me?” he asked slowly.
“Because they think that you are a foolish boy,” replied Count Piper instantly. “Because they believe that in such hands as yours Sweden can do nothing against them. Denmark is your hereditary enemy--Saxony is an adventurer, keeping on foot an army at all costs--and the Czar--is the most ambitious man in Europe.”
“All the land between the Gulf of Finland, the Baltic Sea, Poland, and Muscovy,” replied the councilor laconically.
Karl laughed; it had a meaningless sound.
The King, still holding his head and still confused, spoke again, slowly and insistently, like a child asking artless, but to himself important questions.
“What are the Czar’s objects--tell me, Count?” he asked.
The more stupidly calm his master showed the more the diplomat dared show his annoyance--after all, this boy was eighteen, of a race of heroes, carefully trained and had shown already some signs of greatness as in the matter of his coronation and his refusal to be ruled by a woman, and it was intolerable that he should sit here fuddled with wine, staring with eyes blank as those of any fool.
“The Czar needs an outlet--a fort--on the Baltic,” he replied, in a tone of fierce sarcasm; “the Czar is a man of vast schemes, of a wide ambition--of a fair measure of greatness, too--he has taught his people much--he would teach them the art of war. At your expense, sire.”
“And Saxony and Poland help him--yes, you told me so--we discussed this the other day.”
“We have spoken of it many times,” replied the councilor bitterly.
“And there is my poor brother Gottorp-Holstein ruined--and my sister weeping here for help,” he said slowly; “that is a pretty creature she has with her, Count----”