in. Don’t blush, prince; you make me sorry for you. What beauty saves the world? Colia told me that you are a zealous Christian; is it so? Colia says you call yourself a Christian.”
The prince regarded him attentively, but said nothing.
“You don’t answer me; perhaps you think I am very fond of you?” added Hippolyte, as though the words had been drawn from him.
“No, I don’t think that. I know you don’t love me.”
“What, after yesterday? Wasn’t I honest with you?”
“I knew yesterday that you didn’t love me.”
“Why so? why so? Because I envy you, eh? You always think that, I know. But do you know why I am saying all this? Look here! I must have some more champagne—pour me out some, Keller, will you?”
“No, you’re not to drink any more, Hippolyte. I won’t let you.” The prince moved the glass away.
“Well perhaps you’re right,” said Hippolyte, musing. “They might say—yet, devil take them! what does it matter?—prince, what can it matter what people will say of us then , eh? I believe I’m half asleep. I’ve had such a dreadful dream—I’ve only just remembered it. Prince, I don’t wish you such dreams as that, though sure enough, perhaps, I don’t love you. Why wish a man evil, though you do not love him, eh? Give me your hand—let me press it sincerely. There—you’ve given me your hand—you must feel that I do press it sincerely, don’t you? I don’t think I shall drink any more. What time is it? Never mind, I know the time. The time has come, at all events. What! they are laying supper over there, are they? Then this table is free? Capital, gentlemen! I—hem! these gentlemen are not listening. Prince, I will just read over an article I have here. Supper is more interesting, of course, but—”