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.”

A few moments later Count Selim Malagaski found himself sitting face to face with a ruddy young man in a blue suit—­a square-shouldered, smiling young gentleman, with hair of subdued auburn.

“I take it that you’re a busy man and I’ll come to the point,” said the young man, pulling up his chair.  “I try to be business from the word go, even in matters of this kind.  You have a daughter.”

“I have two daughters,” replied the Governor-General sadly.

“You have only one that interests me.  I have been around a good deal, but she is about the finest looking girl I—­”

“Before you say any more, let me explain to you,” said the Governor-General very courteously.  “Perhaps you are not entitled to this information, but you seem to be a gentleman and a person of some importance, and you have done me the honor to admire my daughter, and, therefore, it is well that you should know all the facts in the case.  I have two daughters.  One is exceedingly beautiful and her hand has been sought in marriage by young men of the very first families of Morovenia, notably Count Luis Muldova, who owns a vast estate near the Roumanian frontier.  I have another daughter who is decidedly unattractive, so much so that she has never had an offer of marriage.  I am telling you all this because it is known to all Morovenia, and even you, a stranger, would have learned it very soon.  Under the law here, a younger sister may not marry until the elder sister has married.  My unattractive daughter is the elder of the two.  Do you see the point?  Do you understand, when you come talking of a marriage with my one desirable daughter, that not only are you competing with all the wealthy and titled young men of this country, but also you are condemned to sit down and patiently wait until the elder sister has married,—­which means, my dear sir, that probably you will wait for ever?  Therefore I think I may safely wish you good day.”

“Hold on, here,” said the visitor, who had been listening intently, with his eyes half-closed, and nodding his head quickly as he caught the points of the unusual situation.  “If I can fix it up with you and daughter—­and I don’t think I’ll have any trouble with daughter—­what’s the matter with my rustling around and finding a good man for sister?  There is no reason why any young woman with a title should go into the discard these days.  At least we can make a try.  I have tackled propositions that looked a good deal tougher than this.”