“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!” As, however, he opened the door of the next room, his form again took its former shrunken, frail appearance, and his features again bore the expression of suffering and exhaustion. “Ah, it is you,” said Prince Ulrich, advancing to meet the count, while Munnich stood near a writing-table, in earnest conversation with Anna Leopoldowna, to whom he seemed to be explaining something upon a sheet of paper. “We have waited long for you, my dear count,” continued the prince, offering his hand to the new-comer, with a smile. “The old and the sick always have the misfortune to arrive too late,” said Count Ostermann, “pain and suffering are such hinderances, your grace. And, moreover, I have only come in obedience to the wishes of your highness, well knowing that I am superfluous here. What has the feeble old man to do in the councils of the strong?” “To represent wisdom in council,” said the prince, “and for that, you are precisely the man, count.” “Ah, Count Ostermann,” at this moment interposed Munnich, “it is well you have come. You will be best able to tell their excellencies whether I am right or not.”