“ ‘Maybe sad Love upon his setting smiles,

And with vain hopes his farewell hour beguiles.’

“ ‘Maybe sad Love upon his setting smiles, And with vain hopes his farewell hour beguiles.’

Ha, ha, ha!”

Hippolyte suddenly burst into a fit of hysterical laughter, which turned into a choking cough.

“Observe,” he gasped, through his coughing, “what a fellow Gania is! He talks about Nastasia’s ‘leavings,’ but what does he want to take himself?”

The prince sat silent for a long while. His mind was filled with dread and horror.