The fires of inward wrath seemed to have reduced her weight a few
pounds, so that if ever a man faced a situation of unbroken gloom, that
man was the poor Governor-General.
Count Malagaski sat in the large, over-decorated audience room, alone
with his sorrowful meditations. An attendant brought him a note.
"The man is at the gate," said the attendant. "He started to come in. We
tried to keep him out. He pushed three of the soldiers out of the way,
but we finally held him back, so he sends this note."
A few lines had been written in pencil on the reverse side of a
typewritten business letter. The Governor-General could speak English,
but he read it rather badly, so he sent for his secretary, who told him
that the note ran as follows:
You don't know me and there is no need to give my name. Must see you
on important matter of business. Something in regard to your daughter.
"Great Heavens, another one!" said the Governor-General. "There are one
thousand young men ready and willing to marry Jeneka and not one in all
the world wants Kalora. Send him away!"
"I am afraid he won't go," suggested the attendant. "He is a very
positive character."
"Then send him in to me. I can dispose of his case in short order.
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