"And if that is not enough to drive the poor man to the madhouse I do not
know what is. Perhaps you have forgotten all about it? Perhaps you are
mad, too?"
Akulina read the writing in her turn. Then she grew very angry.
"It is an abominable lie!" she exclaimed. "I never had anything to do with
it. I do not know whence this letter comes, and I do not care. I know
nothing about it."
"I suppose no one can prevent your saying so, at least," retorted the
Cossack.
"It is very queer," observed Fischelowitz, suddenly thrusting his hands
into his pockets and beginning to whistle softly as he looked through the
shop window.
"When I tell you that it is not my handwriting, you ought to be
satisfied--" Akulina began.
"And yet none of us are," interrupted the Cossack with a laugh. "Strange,
is it not?"
Dumnoff now came in, and a moment later the insignificant girl, who began
to giggle foolishly as soon as she saw that something was happening which
she could not understand.
"None of us are satisfied," continued Johann Schmidt, taking the letter
from Akulina. "Here, Dumnoff, here Anna Nicolaevna, is this the
Chosjaika's handwriting or not? Let everybody see and judge."
"It is outrageous!" exclaimed Akulina, trying to get possession of the
letter again.
"You see how she tries to get it," laughed the Cossack, savagely. "She
would be glad to tear it to pieces--of course she would."
"I wish you would all go about your business," said Fischelowitz with an
approach to asperity.
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