Prince Hippolyte, having brought the workbag, joined the circleand moving a chair close to hers seated himself beside her.
Le charmant Hippolyte was surprising by his extraordinaryresemblance to his beautiful sister, but yet more by the fact thatin spite of this resemblance he was exceedingly ugly. His featureswere like his sister's, but while in her case everything was lit up bya joyous, self-satisfied, youthful, and constant smile of animation,and by the wonderful classic beauty of her figure, his face on thecontrary was dulled by imbecility and a constant expression ofsullen self-confidence, while his body was thin and weak. His eyes,nose,
cheap marlboro cigarettes, and mouth all seemed puckered into a vacant, wearied grimace,and his arms and legs always fell into unnatural positions.
"It's not going to be a ghost story?" said he,
newport box 100s, sitting down besidethe princess and hastily adjusting his lorgnette,
wholesale tobacco, as if without thisinstrument he could not begin to speak.
"Why no,
newports cigarettes, my dear fellow," said the astonished narrator, shrugginghis shoulders.
"Because I hate ghost stories,
newport carton," said Prince Hippolyte in a tonewhich showed that he only understood the meaning of his words after hehad uttered them.
He spoke with such self-confidence that his hearers could not besure whether what he said was very witty or very stupid. He wasdressed in a dark-green dress coat, knee breeches of the color ofcuisse de nymphe effrayee, as he called it,
newport 100s, shoes, and silk stockings.