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.
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