1890.

Murdoc Faust Niccals, scion of the noble family, who had just turned twenty-one, returned to the estate where he grew up and spent his childhood after five years of study at a privileged educational institution. In honor of his arrival, the household organized a modest homemade dinner of fourteen dishes, combined with the reception of the closest and dearest forty guests, so the house was in turmoil.

Mrs. Niссals had a lot of work to cope with all the chores around the house, however, having given all the orders, she was able to calm down a little. Fanning herself with a fan, she waited for her son's arrival in the living room, where Murdoc's younger brother was also sitting, dressed in a formal suit that was unpleasant for a child, and therefore the boy turned around, unnerving an already nervous mother.

Finally, the crew arrived. Murdoc was greeted by a valet who escorted him through the hall to the living room and announced the young master's arrival. Entering the room, Murdoc first greeted his mother, father and brother, and then walked along the line of servants lined up. Having almost finished this ritual, he went back a step, noticing the governess with her eyes buried in the floor.

"Miss Pot?"

The governess raised her gaze and looked timidly at Murdoc.

"Yes, sir."

"I'm very glad to see you, Miss Pot," Murdoc smiled tightly.

"And I will, sir," the governess replied, trying not to smile, but blushing a little.

Having said this, Murdoc Faust walked past the servants, after which they were sent to go about their business, and Murdoc returned to formal communication with his family.

The dinner went off without incident, except for the slightly sagging pudding, for which the chef clearly expected a reprimand, but since the pudding was eaten quickly, the incident was soon forgotten.

The next day, before breakfast, Murdoc took a short walk in the garden. He found a tall poplar, under which he loved to spend time as a child, and, feeling a surge of nostalgia, sank to the grass under the shade of the branches to refresh his memories a little.

He was thinking about his own, enjoying a pleasant summer morning, when he noticed Miss Pot. She fiddled around the flower bushes to fill the basket with flowers. For a while, Murdoc simply watched her flexibly bend down to the very roots, crushed the apron, picked out the flowers, cut the right ones, take the flowers out of the bushes and put them in a basket.

Picking flowers Miss Pot stopped and straightened up to examine her fingers. Murdoc got up from the grass under the tree, brushed off his trousers and walked down the path to the flower bushes. It was clear that Miss Pot was trying to get the splinter out.

"Good day, do you need help?" Murdoc asked, stepping closer.

"Thank you, sir," the miss muttered, embarrassed. "No longer required. Everything is fine. See? Everything is fine now. All is ready."

"Then let me help you carry the basket?" suggested Niссals.

"Thanks, I'll get it," Miss Pot said, grabbing the basket and lifting it. "If you wish, help the cook boy: look, he is dragging a garden chair and it seems that the chair is winning over him."

She pointed behind Murdoc's back, where a few meters away, a boy was carrying a wooden chair, panting. He chuckled and walked over to the boy.

"Come on," he said, picking up a chair and lifting it with one hand, ordered: "Tell me where to take it."

"Thank you, sir," - thanked the boy rubbing his nose and indicating where to take the chair.

"Not at all," Murdoc said.

Day after day Murdoc lived on the estate and, willy-nilly, bumped into Miss Pot when she, for example, took his younger brother for a walk or left the room for classes. The governess on these occasions hurriedly nodded to him and walked by quickly.

One evening Murdoc noticed his mother and housekeeper came out of the room where they were apparently doing needlework. After waiting for them to climb the stairs, Murdoc entered the room. He found Miss Pot embroidering with beads all alone. She pretended not to notice anything around her with all her might, and continued to concentrate on embroidery.

"Good evening, Miss Pot," Murdoc said, walking across the room.

"Good evening, sir," the governess replied as if nothing had happened.

Walking around the room, Murdoc found a stone Chinese god on a shelf and, lifting it, turned it around its axis.

"Why are you avoiding me?" Murdoc asked.

"I'm not avoiding you at all, sir," the miss replied calmly.

""But you are not eager to communicate with me. I would like to apologize to you."

"For what, sir?"

"I remember how I sometimes behaved with you. I suppose you quietly hated me for my antics, although you were kind to me, which I probably did not deserve. I understand that the past cannot be corrected, but I hope that my apologies will be able to correct the impression at least a little. Honestly, I'm ashamed of what I allowed myself to get up to and how stupid, impudent and stubborn I was. Surely, I have offended and upset you more than once. Excuse me."

"I don't think so, sir," said Miss Pot, smiling. "I have known you since the age of four, and the whole time that we spent with you was wonderful. You were a child, children tend to be naughty - this is in the order of things. It was my job to help you cope with difficulties, to explain what is good and what is bad. I don't take offense at you and don't think that you should ask for forgiveness. You have always been cheerful, inquisitive, energetic, very stubborn and, of course, a kind boy. I don't hate you, I love you with all my heart. You can believe me. You know that it has always been this way."

"I believe you, Miss Pot, and I love you too," Murdoc said.

"Thank you, sir," the miss nodded. "It's good that we clarified this."

"So you are not against my company?"

"Of course not," said the governess. "I am really very pleased to see you at home again. Remember how you were afraid of me the first time we met?"

"I wasn't afraid of you at all," Murdoc said gravely. "You had a very fluffy rustling skirt ... It puzzled me."

"You refused to take my hand."

"But then I took it all the same."

"Later, yes. I'll never forget this."

"That's a terrible question, miss, but you yourself were almost a child then?"

"A child? No, sir. I was sixteen," Miss Pot declared proudly. "And I already had a whole year of work in a real school."

In this time the housekeeper returned to the room and Miss Pot stretched out like a string, burying herself in the embroidery and afraid to look up at Sir Niccals. He realized that, probably, it is better to postpone a light conversation for the future, otherwise nothing good will come of it. However, he found out and heard everything he wanted, so with the arrival of the housekeeper he pretended that he urgently needed to go and leave the room.

One day Murdoc went for a horseback ride. When he was already returning back, it began to drizzle, which quickly intensified until it turned into a downpour.

Trying to get to the house as soon as possible, Murdoc noticed Miss Pot, drenched in the cold rain on the road, carrying a heavy bag on her shoulder.

"Miss!" Murdoc called out to her, shouting over the rustle of rain and quickly dismounting from his horse.

"Sir, such rain!" She replied.

"I'll help you, miss, let me..."

"Oh no, no!" refused Miss Pot. "I'll never go on a horse! It's wet everywhere, I'm afraid! See how slippery it is here!"

"Miss, it's not scary at all, I'll take you safely…"

Murdoc tried to grab Miss Pot's waist, but slipped and grabbed the governess in the wrong place. Miss Pot flushed, wriggled out from under his arm in a second and almost ran across the garden. Murdoc wanted to shout her that it was better to follow the road, but felt embarrassed and said nothing.

Returning to the house, changing his clothes, Murdoc drank a little so as not to catch a cold and, warming up, wondered what he was going to do.

When the whole house went to bed and everything was quiet, Murdoc walked from his bedroom to the servants' wing, went up to Miss Pot's room and knocked.

"Miss, it's me, Murdoc," he called from behind the door.

Silence reigned in the room.

"Miss Pot," repeated Murdoc.

Footsteps were heard at the very door.

"Good evening, sir."

"I need to talk to you," Murdoc blurted out.

"Okay, we'll talk in the morning."

"Now, Miss Pot. Open the door please."

"Whatever you want to say, it's better to do it in the morning."

"It will be impossible, there are too many people around."

"If it's impossible in the morning, maybe it's not necessary."

Murdoc exhaled.

"I need to see you and tell you something important," he said.

For a while, nothing happened, after the latch on the door clicked and Miss Pot, in her night dress, wrapped in a shawl, appeared before Murdoc.

"May I come in?" Murdoc asked.

"No, no," Miss Pot stopped him, holding the door.

"I swear we'll just talk, I'll be gone in half an hour," Murdoc said.

"No, sir!" Repeated the miss firmly.

"Five minutes.

"I'm sorry, no."

"One minute! Let me stop by just for a minute."

"You shouldn't," Miss Pot said stubbornly.

"You'd better let me in."

"Why, sir?"

"Because I know your secret," Murdoc said.

"What secret?" the governess asked.

Murdoc looked at her expectantly.

"Today on the road, when I hugged you, I realized who you are."

"And who am I?"

"Man."

"And... What does that mean?"

"In what sense?"

"Well, what's next, sir? .. You, apparently, want to say something by this."

Murdoc furrowed his brows and nodded towards the owners' wing, asked:

"They know?"

"What do you think?.."

-"Wait... And everyone here knows? .. Didn't I know that alone?"

"Sorry, sir, I thought you understood a long time ago. I'm really sorry if this is a sudden discovery for you."

Murdoc paused, looking around the dark corridor around him.

"How could I not notice it?" He blurted out. "It's obvious!"

"Maybe you have formed some kind of image and you… I don't know, sir, to be honest."

"But why? Why do you look like that? How is this possible? So many questions!"

"And it should all be asked in the morning."

"But…"

"In the morning, sir."

"Yes, yes, I understand, of course, but I still can't get it into my head, you know?"

"Yes ... But, sir, my day starts quite early and please, I want to get some sleep…"

"But can I now come in for at least five minutes just to calm down?"

"I…" Miss said.

"You can help me, please."

"I can… recommend you go to bed."

"Sure…

"Yes, it'll be better."

"Understand. I didn't get a chance…"

"You actually… had."

"What?!"

"Good night, sir!" Pot blurted out, slamming the door in his face.

Murdoc was left alone in the hallway in front of the closed door. After standing in silence and darkness, he nevertheless decided to go to the bedroom. And as soon as he left, Pot, pressing into the door, exhaled and recoiling from the doorknob. And he also went to sleep.