“The back doors are in all cases of the greatest importance,” said Count Ostermann, earnestly. “Through back doors one often attains to the rooms of state, and had your palace here accidentally had no back door for the admission of us, your devoted servants, who knows, your highness Anna, whether you would on this very night become regent!”
“On this night!” suddenly exclaimed Munnich. “You see, your highness, that Count Ostermann is wholly of my opinion. It must be done this night!”
“That would be overhaste,” cried the duchess; “we are not yet prepared!”
“Nor is the regent, Biron of Courland,” thoughtfully interposed Ostermann; “and, therefore, our overhaste would take Biron by surprise.”
“Decidedly my opinion,” said Munnich. “All is lost if we give the regent time and leisure to make his arrangements. If we do not annihilate him to-day, he may, perhaps, send us to Siberia to-morrow.”
The duchess turned pale; a trembling ran through her tall, noble form.
“I so much dread the shedding of blood!” said she.
“Oh, I am not at all vain,” said Ostermann. “I find it much less unpleasant to see the blood of others flowing than my own. It may be egotism, but I prefer keeping my blood in my veins to exposing it to the gaping curiosity of an astonished crowd!”
“You think, then, that he already suspects, and would murder us?”
“You, us, and also your son, the Emperor Ivan.”