you bequeath your skeleton to the Academy. Are you referring to your own skeleton—I mean, your very bones?”
“Yes, my bones, I—”
“Quite so, I see; because, you know, little mistakes have occurred now and then. There was a case—”
“Why do you tease him?” cried the prince, suddenly.
“You’ve moved him to tears,” added Ferdishenko. But Hippolyte was by no means weeping. He was about to move from his place, when his four guards rushed at him and seized him once more. There was a laugh at this.
“He led up to this on purpose. He took the trouble of writing all that so that people should come and grab him by the arm,” observed Rogojin. “Good night, prince. What a time we’ve sat here, my very bones ache!”