people came to him from all parts of Moscow. Those about him had never seen the count so morose and irritable.
“Your excellency, the Director of the Registrar’s Department has sent for instructions. … From the Consistory, from the Senate, from the University, from the Foundling Hospital, the Suffragan has sent … asking for information. … What are your orders about the Fire Brigade? From the governor of the prison … from the superintendent of the lunatic asylum …” All night long such announcements were continually being received by the count.
To all these inquiries he gave brief and angry replies indicating that orders from him were not now needed, that the whole affair, carefully prepared by him, had now been ruined by somebody, and that that somebody would have to bear the whole responsibility for all that might happen.
“Oh, tell that blockhead,” he