e was
crippled in childhood. Be that as it may, he was vindictive and spiteful
by nature, and prevented the quarrel from being forgotten. The younger
brother left the house with the clothes on his back, and steadily refused
to accept the small allowance offered him, and which was his by right. And
now the father and the eldest son are dead--they died suddenly of the
smallpox--and Doctor Grabofsky has come to inform the Count that he is the
heir. There you have the story in a nutshell."

"Then it is all true, after all!" cried Fischelowitz. "We all thought--"

"Thinking, when one knows nothing, is a dangerous and useless pastime,"
observed the Consul. "I will take a box of these cigarettes with me. They
are good."

"Thank you most obediently, Milostivy Gosudar!" exclaimed Fischelowitz,
bowing low. "I trust that the Gospodin Consul will honour me with his
patronage. I have a great variety of tobaccos, Kir, Basma, Samson, Dubec
Imperial, Swary--"

While Fischelowitz was recommending the productions of his Celebrated
Manufactory to the Consul, Grabofsky and the Count were walking together
up and down the smooth pavement outside.

"A great change has taken place in your family," Grabofsky was saying.
"Had anything less extraordinary occurred, I should have written to you
instead of coming in person. Your brother is dead, Count Skariatine."

"Dead!" exclaimed the Count, who had no recollection of the letter
abstracted from his pocket by the Cossack. It had reached him after the
weekly attack had begun, and the memory of it was gone with that of so
many other occurrences.

"Dead," repeated the lawyer sharply, as though he would have made a nail
of the word to drive it into the coffin.

"And how many children has he left?" inquired the Count.

"He died unmarried."

"So that I--"

"You are the lawful heir."

"Unless my father marries again." The colour rose in the Count's lean
cheeks.

"That is impossible."

"Why?"

"Because he is dead, too."

"Then--"

"You are Count Skariatine, and I have the honour to offer you my services
at this important juncture."

The Count breathed hard. The shock, overtaking him when he was in his
normal condition, was tremendous. The colour came and went rapidly in his
features, and he caught his breath, leaning heavily upon the little
lawyer, who watched his face with some anxiety. Akulina's remark about the
Count's madness had made him more careful than he would otherwise ha