"I would like to know what I am accused of," said Akulina, "and what all this is about."
"I suppose you know your own handwriting," observed the Cossack, taking the letter from the tobacconist's hands and holding it before her eyes. "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.
Akulina was furious, but she did not know what to do. Everybody began talking together.
"Of course it is the Barina's handwriting," said Dumnoff confidently. He supposed it was always safe to follow Schmidt's lead, when he followed any one.
"Of course it is," chimed in the insignificant Anna.
"You--you minx--you flatter-cat, you little serpent!" cried Akulina, speaking three languages at once in her excitement. "Go--get along--go to your work--"
"No, no, stay!" exclaimed the Cossack authoritatively. "Do you know what this is?" he asked of all present again. "Our good mistress, here, has for some reason or other been trying to make the Count worse by having sham letters posted to him from home--"