“Patkul may die,” she said, in a loud voice, “but he will be revenged. No man like you can triumph long. In the day of your disaster, sire, remember me--and that there was one person to scorn you and your glory, and know you for the little man you are.”
She flung out this in a breath, then added, panting, “You vain, mad boy!” in a tone of utter contempt.
Karl stared at her, and the color slowly mounted up under his eyes; he gave a harsh, short laugh, turned on his heel, and left the room without a salute.
“What have you done!” he cried frantically.
She flung him off with a passionate gesture of scorn.
“I have done with you,” she said. “Pray God your son will be a different man.”
“Nous n’avons de propre que l’honneur; y renoncer, c’est cesser d’être monarque.”--_Peter the Great to Chofiroff._
Laden with the plunder of Poland and Saxony, the spoils of their brilliant feats of arms, the Swedes, amid the January ice, marched on Grodno, the several parties of Muscovites in the neighborhood flying at the mere rumor of their approach.
Peter, surprised in Grodno, fled with 2000 men, while Karl with 600 entered the city.
When Peter learned that the bulk of the Swedish army was still five leagues distant he returned and tried to retake the town.
He was, however, fiercely beaten back, and the Swedes pursued the Russians through Lithuania and Minsk, towards the frontiers of Russia.
Karl, after clearing Lithuania of the forces of the Czar, intended to march towards the North and on Moscow, by way of Pskof.
The difficulties in his way were terrible; huge stretches of virgin forest, of desolate marsh, of barren deserts, lay between him and his objective. The only food that could be found was the winter stores of the peasants in the small tracks of cultivated land, which were buried underground; many of these had already been ravaged by the Muscovites, and in any case were insufficient for the Swedish army.
Karl, who was to be deterred neither by prudence, reason, nor fear of any kind, had provided bread for his men which they carried with them, and on this they had to support the ghastly hardships of the forced marches.
The heavy rains kept back even the indefatigable Swede. A road had to be made through the forest of Minsk, and it was early summer before Karl found himself once more face to face with Peter at Borissov.