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Hippolyte mention his own name.
‘You don’t believe it?’ said the invalid, with a nervous
laugh. ‘I don’t wonder, but the prince will have no difficulty
in believing it; he will not be at all surprised.’
‘Do you hear, prince—do you hear that?’ said Lizabetha
Prokofievna, turning towards him.
There was laughter in the group around her, and Leb-
edeff stood before her gesticulating wildly.
‘He declares that your humbug of a landlord revised this
gentleman’s article—the article that was read aloud just
now—in which you got such a charming dressing-down.’
The prince regarded Lebedeff with astonishment.
‘Why don’t you say something?’ cried Lizabetha Proko-
fievna, stamping her foot.
‘Well,’ murmured the prince, with his eyes still fixed on
Lebedeff, ‘I can see now that he did.’
‘Is it true?’ she asked eagerly.
‘Absolutely, your excellency,’ said Lebedeff, without the
least hesitation.
Mrs. Epanchin almost sprang up in amazement at his
answer, and at the assurance of his tone.
‘He actually seems to boast of it!’ she cried.
‘I am base—base!’ muttered Lebedeff, beating his breast,
and hanging his head.
‘What do I care if you are base or not? He thinks he has
only to say, ‘I am base,’ and there is an end of it. As to you,
prince, are you not ashamed?—I repeat, are you not ashamed,
to mix with such riff-raff? I will never forgive you!’
‘The prince will forgive me!’ said Lebedeff with emotion-
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