"I told you my Princess Anna was going to run away. She's gone! And her mother has cut her off from the inheritance," Natasha continued with an exultant smile. "I looked through the scrap basket, and have brought some papers with me."
"What sort of papers?"
"Oh, letters and notes. They are all in Princess Anna's handwriting. Shall I give them to you?" jested Natasha. "Have a good look at them, examine them, learn her handwriting, so that you can imitate every letter. That kind of thing is just in your line; you are a first-class copyist, so this is just the job for you."
The engraver listened, and only shrugged his shoulders.
"No, joking aside," she continued seriously, drawing nearer Bodlevski,
"I have thought of something out of the common; you will be grateful.
I have no time to explain it all now. You will know later on. The main
thing is—learn her handwriting."
"But what is it all for?" said Bodlevski wonderingly.
"So that you may be able to write a few words in the handwriting of
Princess Anna; what you have to write I'll dictate to you."
"And then?"
"Then hurry up and get me a passport in some one else's name, and have your own ready. But learn her handwriting. Everything depends on that!"
"It won't be easy. I'll hardly be able to!" muttered Bodlevski, scratching his head.