The Daughter of an Empress

A decisive conversation was this day to be held with the duchess and her

husband, Prince Ulrich of Brunswick, and therefore, an unheard-of case,

had even Count Ostermann resolved to leave his dusty room for some hours

and repair to the palace of the Duchess Anna Leopoldowna.

"Slowly, slowly, ye knaves," groaned Ostermann, as he ascended the

narrow winding stairs with the aid of his servants. "See you not, you

hounds, that every one of your movements causes me insufferable pain?

Ah, a fearful illness is evidently coming; it is already attacking my

limbs, and pierces and agonizes every part of my system! Let my bed be

prepared at home, you scamps, and have a strengthening soup made ready

for me. And now away, fellows, and woe to you if, during my absence,

either one of you should dare to break into the store-room or

wine-cellar! You know that I have good eyes, and am cognizant of every

article on hand, even to its exact weight and measure. Take care,

therefore, take care! for if but an ounce of meat or a glass of wine

is missing, I will have you whipped, you hounds, until the blood flows.

That you may depend upon!"

And, dismissing his assistants with a kick, Count Ostermann ascended the

last steps of the winding stairs alone and unaided. But, before opening

the door at the head of the stairs, he took time for reflection.

"Hem! perhaps it would have been better for me to have been already

taken ill, for if this plan should miscarry, and the regent discover

that I was in the palace to-day, how then? Ah, I already seem to feel

a draught of Siberian air! But no, it will succeed, and how would that

ambitious Munnich triumph should it succeed without me! No, for this

time I must be present, to the vexation of Munnich, that he may not put

all Russia in his pocket! The good man has such large pockets and such

grasping hands!"

Nodding and smiling to himself, Ostermann opened the door of the

anteroom. A rapid, searching glance satisfied him that he was alone

there, but his brow darkened when he observed Count Munnich's mantle

lying upon a chair.

"Ah, he has preceded me," peevishly murmured Ostermann. "Well, well,

we can afford once more to yield the precedence to him. To-day

he--to-morrow I! My turn will come to-morrow!"

Quite forgetting his illness and his pretended pains, he rapidly crossed

the spacious room, and, throwing his ragged fur cloak upon Munnich's

mantle, said: "A poor old cloak like this is yet in condition to render that

resplendent uniform invisible. Not a spangle of that magnificent gold

embroidery can be seen, it is all overshadowed by the ragged old cloak

which Munnich so much despises! Oh, the good field-marshal will rejoice

to find his mantle in such good company, and I hope my cloak may

leave some visible memento upon its embroidered companion. Well, the

field-marshal is a brave man, and I have given him an opportunity to

make a campaign against his own mantle! The fool, why does he dislike

these good little animals, and would yet be a Russian!"