Then, another question crossed my mind. “If you are sick, then why don’t you stay at a hospital?” I inquired. He shrugged. “There’s nothing they can do in a hospital that can’t be done for me here,” Casimir replied. “Besides,” he continued, stretching out his arms, “My bedchamber is far more luxurious.” No kidding. “And I also enjoy the library very much. Either way,I’d be poked with needles, so I’d rather have thousands of good books to distract me,” he concluded.I nodded. “So, it must be nice,” I commented. “being the king of the castle and all. Right?” I asked. He looked at me seriously. “Well,it’s more like I’m the prince, residing in an ivory tower that is actually suffocating me and growing tiresome with gloom.The king is never home, and the servants are all fawning,boring,dreary schoolmarmish prudes who think medicine is the answer to everything,as well as needles and whatever else they come up with.That’s the way things are in this dark,sheltered kingdom,” Casimir explained, his voice bitter again.