The Daughter of an Empress. L. Muhlbach
vehemently exclaimed Leopoldowna—“no, no blood shall flow! Not with blood shall our own and our son’s rights be secured! Swear this gentlemen, or I will never give my consent to the undertaking.”
“I well knew that your highness would so decide,” said Munnich, with a smile, drawing a folded paper from his bosom. “In proof of which I hand this paper to your highness.”
“Ah, what is this?” said the duchess, unfolding the paper; “it is the ground plan of a house!”
“Of the house we will have built for Biron in Siberia,” said Munnich; “I have drawn the plan myself.”
“In fact, you are a skilful architect, Count Munnich,” said Ostermann, laughing, while casting an interrogating glance at the paper which Anna was still thoughtfully examining. “How well you have arranged it all! How delightful these snug little chambers will be! There will be just space enough in them to turn around in. But these small chambers seem to be a little too low. They are evidently not more than five feet high. As Biron, however, has about your height, he will not be able to stand upright in them.”
“Bah! for that very reason!” said Munnich, with a cruel laugh. “He has carried his head high long enough; now he may learn to bow.”
“But that will be a continual torment!” exclaimed the Duke of Brunswick.
“On, has he not tormented us?” angrily responded Munnich. “We need reprisals.”
“How strange and horrible!” said Anna Leopoldowna, shuddering; “this man is now standing here clothed with unlimited power, and we are already holding in our hands the plan of his prison!”
“Yes, yes, and with this plan in his pocket will Count Munnich now go to dine with Biron and enjoy his hospitality!” laughingly exclaimed Ostermann. “Ah, that must make the dinner particularly piquant! How agreeable it must be to press the regent’s hand, and at the same time feel the rustling in your pocket of the paper upon which you have drawn the plan of his Siberian prison! But you are in the right. The regent has deeply offended you. How could he dare refuse to make you his generalissimo?”
“Ah, it is not for that,” said Munnich with embarrassment; and, seeking to give the conversation a different turn, he continued—“ah, see, Count Ostermann, what a terrible animal is crawling there upon your dress!”
“Policy, nothing but policy,” tranquilly responded Ostermann, while the princess turned away with an expression of repugnance.
“Well,” cried the prince, laughing, “explain to us, Count Ostermann, what those disgusting insects have to do with policy or politics?”
“We are all four Germans,” said Ostermann, “and consequently are all familiar with the common saying, ‘Tell me the company you keep, and I will tell you what you are!’ I have always kept that in mind since I have been in Russia; and to make this good people forget that I am a foreigner, I have taken particular pains to furnish myself with a supply of their dirt and of these delicate insects. If any one asks me who I am, I show him these creatures with whom I associate, and he immediately concludes that I am a Russian.”
Ostermann joined in the laugh that followed this explanation, but suddenly he uttered a piercing cry, and sank down upon a chair.
“Ah, these pains will be the death of me!” he moaned—“ah, I already feel the ravages of death in my blood; yes, I have long known that a dangerous malady was hovering over me, and my death-bed is already prepared at home! I am a poor failing old man, and who knows whether I shall outlive the evening of this day?”
While Ostermann was thus lamenting, and the prince with kindly sympathy was occupied about him, Munnich had returned the drawing to his pocket, and was speaking in a low tone to the duchess of some yet necessary preparations for the night. Count Ostermann, notwithstanding his lamentations and his pretended pains, had yet a sharp ear for every word they spoke. He very distinctly heard the duchess say: “Well, I am satisfied! I shall expect you at about two o’clock in the morning, and if the affair is successful, you, Count Munnich, may be sure of my most fervent gratitude; you will then have liberated Russia, the young emperor, and myself, from a cruel and despotic tyrant, and I shall be eternally beholden to you.”
Count Munnich’s brow beamed with inward satisfaction. “I shall, then, attain my ends,” thought he. Aloud he said: “Your highness, I have but one wish and one request; if you are willing to fulfil this, then will there be nothing left on earth for me to desire.”
“Then name your request at once, that I may grant it in advance!” said the princess, with a smile.
“The man is getting on rapidly, and will even now get the appointment of generalissimo,” thought Ostermann. “That must never be; I must prevent it!”
And just as Munnich was opening his mouth to prefer his request, Ostermann suddenly uttered so loud and piteous a cry of anguish that the compassionate and alarmed princess hastened to offer him her sympathy and aid.
At this moment the clock upon the wall struck four. That was the hour for which Munnich was invited to dine with the regent. It would not do to fail of his engagement to-day—he must be punctual, to avoid exciting suspicion. He, therefore, had no longer the time to lay his request before the princess; consequently Count Ostermann had accomplished his object, and secretly triumphing, he loudly groaned and complained of his sufferings.
Count Munnich took his leave.
“I go now,” he smilingly said, “to take my last dinner with the Duke of Courland. I shall return this night at the appointed hour. We shall then convert the duke into a Siberian convict, which, at all events, will be a very interesting operation.”
Thus he departed, with a horrible laugh upon his lips, to keep his appointment with the regent.
Count Ostermann had again attained his end—he remained alone with the princely pair. Had Munnich been the first who came, Ostermann was the last to go.
“Ah,” said he, rising with apparent difficulty, “I will now bear my old, diseased body to my dwelling, to repose and perhaps to die upon my bed of pain.”
“Not to die, I hope,” said Anna.
“You must live, that you may see us in our greatness,” said the prince.
Ostermann feebly shook his head. “I see, I see it all,” said he. “You will liberate yourself from one tyrant, your highness, to become the prey of another. The eyes of the dying see clear, and I tell you, duchess, you were already on the point of giving away the power you have attained. Know you what Munnich’s demand will be?”
“Well?”
“He will demand what Biron refused him, and for which refusal Munnich became his enemy. He will ask you to appoint him generalissimo of all your forces by land and sea.”
“Then will he demand what naturally belongs to me,” said the prince, excitedly, “and we shall of course refuse it.”
“Yes, we must refuse it,” repeated the princess.
“And in that you will do well,” said Count Ostermann. “I may venture to say so, as I have no longer the least ambition—death will soon relieve me from all participation in affairs of state. I am a feeble old man, and desire nothing more than to be allowed occasionally to impart good counsels to my benefactors. And this is now my advice: Guard yourselves against the ambition of Count Munnich.”
“We shall bear your counsel in mind,” said the prince.
“We will not appoint him generalissimo!” exclaimed the princess. “He must never forget that he is our servant, and we his masters.”
“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,