LEBEDYAN
approvingly from the depths of his chest, and immediately was overcome by confusion at his own presumption. But luckily no one noticed him. He drew a long breath, and stroked his beard.
'Thirty-six love!' the marker shouted in a nasal voice.
'Well, what do you say to that, old man?' the prince asked Hlopakov.
'What! rrrrakaliooon, of course, simply rrrrakaliooooon!'
The prince roared with laughter.
'What? what? Say it again.'
'Rrrrrakaliooon!' repeated the ex-lieutenant complacently.
'So that's the catchword!' thought I.
The prince sent the red into the pocket.
'Oh! that's not the way, prince, that's not the way,' lisped a fair-haired young officer with red eyes, a tiny nose, and a babyish, sleepy face. 'You shouldn't play like that . . . you ought . . . not that way!'
'Eh? ' the prince queried over his shoulder.
'You ought to have done it . . . in a triplet.'
'Oh, really? ' muttered the prince.
'What do you say, prince? Shall we go this evening to hear the gypsies?' the young man hurriedly went on in confusion. 'Styoshka will sing. . . . Ilyushka. . . .'
The prince vouchsafed no reply.
'Rrrrrakaliooon, old boy,' said Hlopakov, with a sly wink of his left eye.
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