'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.
And the prince exploded.