The Daughter of an Empress

"And now permit me to go, your highness," said Ostermann. "Will you

have the kindness, prince, to command your lackeys to bear me to my

sedan-chair? It is impossible for me to walk a step. Yes, yes, while you

are this night contending for a throne, I shall, perhaps, be struggling

with death."

And with a groan, sinking back into the arms of the lackeys whom the

prince had called, Ostermann suffered himself to be carried down to his

chair, which awaited him at the door. He groaned and cried out as they

placed him in it, but as soon as its doors were closed and his serfs

were trotting with him toward his own palace, the suffering expression

vanished from Ostermann's face, and a sly smile of satisfaction played

upon his lips.

"I think I have well employed my time," he muttered to himself. "The

good Munnich will never become generalissimo, and poor old failing

Ostermann may now, unsuspected, go quietly to bed and comfortably await

the coming events. Such an illness, at the right time, is an insurance

against all accidents and miscarriages. I learned that after the death

of Peter II. Who knows what would then have become of me had I not been

careful to remain sick in bed until Anna had mounted the throne? I will,

therefore, again be sick, and in the morning we shall see! Should

this conjuration succeed, very well; then, perhaps, old Ostermann will

gradually recover sufficient health to take yet a few of the burdens

of state upon his own shoulders, and thus relieve the good Munnich of a

part of his cares!"