their love. But only
look, your highness, did I not prophesy correctly? Only see the numerous
equipages now stopping before your door! The street will soon be too
narrow to contain them."

And in the street below was really to be seen the rapid arrival of
a great number of the most splendid equipages, from which alighted
beautiful and richly-dressed women, whose male companions were covered
with orders, and who were all hastening into the palace. There was a
pressing and pushing which produced the greatest possible confusion.
Every one wished to be the first to congratulate the new ruler, and to
assure him of their unbounded devotion.

The duke's halls were soon filled with Russian magnates, and when at
length the duke himself made his appearance among them, he everywhere
saw only happy, beaming faces, and encountered only glances of love and
admiration. The warmest wishes of all these hundreds seemed to have
been fulfilled, and Biron was precisely the man whom all had desired for
their emperor.

And, standing in the centre of these halls, they read to Biron the
testament of the deceased Empress Anna: that testament designated Ivan,
the son of the Duchess Anna Leopoldowna and Prince Ulrich of Brunswick,
as emperor, and him, Duke Biron of Courland, as absolute regent of the
empire during the minority of the emperor, who had now just reached the
age of seven months. The joy of the magnates was indescribable; they
sank into each other's arms with tears of joy. At this moment old
enemies were reconciled; women who had long nourished a mutual hatred,
now tenderly pressed each other's hands; tears of joy were trembling
in eyes which had never before been known to weep; friendly smiles were
seen on lips which had usually been curled with anger; and every one
extolled with ecstasy the happiness of Russia, and humbly bowed before
the new sun now rising over that blessed realm.

With the utmost enthusiasm they all took the oath of fidelity to the new
ruler, and then hastened to the palace of the Prince of Brunswick, there
with the humblest subjection to kiss the delicate little hand of the
child-emperor Ivan.

Munnich was again alone with the duke, who, forgetting all his
ill-boding dreams, now gave himself up to the proud feeling of his
greatness and power.

"Let them all go," said he, "these magnates, to kiss the hand of this
emperor of seven months, and wallow in the dust before the cradle of a
whimpering nurseling! I