“From whom?” asked the latter timidly, looking at me from behind the half-open door.
I hardly knew him again. Where was his aplomb—his foppery? where had it disappeared? His clothes were half worn out, his hair was uncurled, there was no rouge on his cheeks, and he wore only the commonest and cheapest of ear-rings!
“From Count Orloff,” answered I.
“Have you a letter?”
“Yes; but let me in.”
“Have you a letter?” repeated the secretary, already taking an insolent and bragging tone.
“Yes, in the writing of the count himself,” answered I, handing him the letter.
Charnomski tore it out of my hands, glanced at the German superscription, and, quite bewildered, slowly retreated, and disappeared. After a few minutes the door was quickly opened, and I was let in.
“Ah! mille pardons!” said Charnomski, bowing very low; “now just fancy, I didn’t know you again in your uniform, you are so changed. Welcome, thrice welcome, long-expected and wished-for guest!”