"Good night, Prince," Ptitsyn went over to the prince.
"But he's going to shoot himself now, don't you see?
Look at him!" cried Vera, and she rushed to Ippolit in extreme fright and even seized his hands. "He said he'd shoot himself at sunrise, don't you see?"
"He won't shoot himself!" several voices muttered gloatingly, Ganya's among them.
"Watch out, gentlemen!" Kolya cried, also seizing Ippolit by the hand. "Just look at him!
Prince!
Prince, don't you see?"
Vera, Kolya, Keller, and Burdovsky crowded around Ippolit; all four seized him with their hands.
"He has the right, the right! . . ." muttered Burdovsky, who nevertheless looked quite lost.
"Excuse me, Prince, what are your orders?" Lebedev went up to the prince, drunk and spiteful to the point of impudence.
"What orders?"
"No, sir; excuse me, sir; I'm the host, sir, though I do not wish to show a lack of respect for you. Let's grant that you, too, are the host, but I don't want any of that in my own house ... So there, sir."
"He won't shoot himself; it's a boyish prank," General Ivolgin cried unexpectedly with indignation and aplomb.
"Bravo, General!" Ferdyshchenko picked up.
"I know he won't shoot himself, General, my much-esteemed General, but all the same ... for I'm the host."
"Listen, Mr. Terentyev," Ptitsyn said suddenly, having taken leave of the prince and holding his hand out to Ippolit, "in your notebook I believe you mention your skeleton and bequeath it to the Academy?
It's your skeleton, your very own, that is, your own bones, that you're bequeathing?"
"Yes, my own bones . . ."
"Aha.
Because there might be a mistake: they say there already was such a case."
"Why do you tease him?" the prince cried suddenly.
"You've driven him to tears," added Ferdyshchenko.
But Ippolit was not crying at all.
He tried to move from his place, but the four people standing around him suddenly all seized him by the arms.
There was laughter.
"That's what he was getting at, that people should hold him by the arms; that's why he read his notebook," observed Rogozhin.
"Good-bye, Prince.
We've sat enough; my bones ache."
"If you actually intended to shoot yourself, Terentyev," laughed Evgeny Pavlovich, "then if I were in your place, after such compliments, I would deliberately not shoot myself, so as to tease them."
"They want terribly to see how I shoot myself!" Ippolit reared up at him.
He spoke as if he were attacking him.
"They're vexed that they won't see it."
"So you, too, think they won't see it?"
"I'm not egging you on; on the contrary, I think it's quite possible that you will shoot yourself.
Above all, don't get angry . . ." Evgeny Pavlovich drawled, drawing the words out patronizingly.
"Only now do I see that I made a terrible mistake in reading them this notebook!" said Ippolit, looking at Evgeny Pavlovich with such an unexpectedly trusting air as if he were asking friendly advice from a friend.
"The situation is ridiculous, but. . . really, I don't know what to advise you," Evgeny Pavlovich replied, smiling.
Ippolit sternly looked at him point-blank, not tearing his eyes away, and said nothing.
One might have thought he was totally oblivious at moments.
"No, excuse me, sir, look at the way he does it, sir," said Lebedev. "'I'll shoot myself,' he says, 'in the park, so as not to trouble anybody'!
So he thinks he won't trouble anybody if he goes three steps down into the garden."
"Gentlemen . . ." the prince began.
"No, sir, excuse me, sir, my much-esteemed Prince," Lebedev latched on furiously, "since you yourself are pleased to see that this is not a joke and since at least half of your guests are of the same opinion and are sure that now, after the words that have been spoken here, he certainly must shoot himself out of honor, then I, being the host, announce in front of witnesses that I am asking you to be of assistance!"
"What needs to be done, Lebedev?
I'm ready to assist you."
"Here's what: first of all, he should immediately hand over his pistol, which he boasted about to us, with all the accessories.
If he hands it over, then I agree to allow him to spend this one night in this house, in view of his ill condition, and, of course, under supervision on my part.
But tomorrow let him go without fail wherever he likes—forgive me, Prince!
If he doesn't hand over his weapon, then I at once, immediately, seize him by one arm, the general by the other, and also at once send somebody to notify the police, and then the matter passes over to the police for consideration, sir.
Mr. Ferdyshchenko will go, sir, being an acquaintance."