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"Not that either. That puts the court in too bad a light,"

replied Bilibin. "It's not treachery nor rascality nor stupidity:

it is just as at Ulm... it is..."-he seemed to be trying to find

the right expression. "C'est... c'est du Mack. Nous sommes mackes

(It is... it is a bit of Mack. We are Macked)," he concluded,

feeling that he had produced a good epigram, a fresh one that

would be repeated. His hitherto puckered brow became smooth as a

sign of pleasure, and with a slight smile he began to examine his

nails.

"Where are you off to?" he said suddenly to Prince Andrew who had

risen and was going toward his room.

"I am going away."

"Where to?"

"To the army."

"But you meant to stay another two days?"

"But now I am off at once."

And Prince Andrew after giving directions about his departure

went to his room.

"Do you know, mon cher," said Bilibin following him, "I have been

thinking about you. Why are you going?"