“What is this small request of your Highness?” asked General Hord dryly.
Augustus flushed; his whole position was one of cruel humiliation, and he liked the Swedish officers little better than he liked their master.
“I want the life of General Patkul,” he replied, with an air as easy as he could manage. “I hardly think,” he added, with a forced smile, “that your master will refuse me.”
“You do not know him,” replied the Swede dryly. “He will certainly refuse you.”
“Why?” demanded the unfortunate Elector, with some sharpness.
“First, because it is you want a boon that he will grant no one.”
The Elector could not refrain from a bitter retort to this brusque statement.
“Sir,” said the Swede, “he is just. Patkul is a traitor.”
“Will not an easier death content your master?” asked Augustus.
“You will find that he will alter nothing,” smiled General Hord.
The Elector, however, could not believe that Karl could be so deaf to all promptings of clemency, chivalry, and courtesy.
“For that very reason he will refuse you more certainly. The fact that he is nominally in your power will make him scornful of any concession to you. He will also disdain to accord any favor to you that he would not give to anyone else.”
But Augustus was not convinced, and if he had been, possessed sufficient nobleness to persist in his endeavor to save Patkul.
When they returned to the palace he opened the subject, nervously, but with a certain dignity.
“I regard myself as doubly fortunate in this visit, as I have something on my mind and conscience to put before your Majesty.”
Karl gave him one darting glance, then seated himself, resting his gloved hands on the plain hilt of his sword.
He had flung off his hat, and his eyes shone cold and clear beneath the straight fair brows and smooth low forehead, shaded by the curls of his light peruke.
Seen thus, in perfect composure and repose, the face was beautiful, marred only by the slight overfullness of the lips and the little ugly twist of them, half a smile, defects not noticeable in his extreme youth, but now becoming permanent. His complexion, despite his outdoor life, looked fair and clear as a woman’s above the black satin stock, and there was no line or shade of thought or emotion to soften or enlighten those cold and noble features.