“I know, I know! He lay there fifteen hours in the hard frost, and died with the most extraordinary fortitude⁠—I know⁠—what of him?”

“Only that God gives that sort of dying to some, and not to others. Perhaps you think, though, that I could not die like Gleboff?”

“Not at all!” said the prince, blushing. “I was only going to say that you⁠—not that you could not be like Gleboff⁠—but that you would have been more like⁠—”

“I guess what you mean⁠—I should be an Osterman, not a Gleboff⁠—eh? Is that what you meant?”

“What Osterman?” asked the prince in some surprise.

“Why, Osterman⁠—the diplomatist. Peter’s Osterman,” muttered Hippolyte, confused. There was a moment’s pause of mutual confusion.

“Oh, no, no!” said the prince at last, “that was not what I was going to say⁠—oh no! I don’t think you would ever have been like Osterman.”