The young man grinned from ear to ear, went into the office and brought in a sheet covered with writing.
“This is my writing,” he announced, still with the same smile on his face.
I looked at it; on the square sheet of grayish paper there was written, in a good bold hand, the following document:
“Order: From the Chief Office of the Manor of Ananyevo to the Agent, Mihal Vikulov. No. 209.
“Whereas, Some person unknown entered the garden at Ananyevo last night in an intoxicated condition, and with unseemly songs waked the French governess, Madame Engêne, and disturbed her; and whether the watchman saw anything, and who were on watch in the garden and permitted such disorderliness: as regards all the above-written matters, your orders are to investigate in detail, and report immediately to the Office.”
“Head Clerk, Nikolai Hvostov.”
A huge heraldic seal was attached to the order, with the inscription: “Seal of the chief office of the manor of Ananyevo;” and below stood the signature: “To be executed exactly, Elena Losnyakova.”
“Your lady signed it herself, eh?” I queried.
“To be sure; she always signs herself. Without that the order would be of no effect.”
“Well, and now shall you send this order to the agent?”