The fight with Carson seemed to clear the air a little. Prokop certainly
announced that he intended to escape at the first opportunity; but he
solemnly undertook that until that time he would refrain from any resort
to force or to threats. In recognition of this, Mr. Holz was removed to a
distance of fifteen paces, and Prokop was allowed, accompanied by him, to
move freely in a circle of three miles from seven in the morning to seven
in the evening, to sleep in the laboratory, and to dine where he wished.
On the other hand, Mr. Carson quartered a woman and two children in the
laboratory (as it happened, she was the wife of a workman who had been
killed by an explosion of Krakatit), as a sort of moral guarantee against
any “carelessness.” In addition Prokop was assigned a large salary, paid
in gold, and he was left free to work or amuse himself as he wished.
Prokop spent the first few days after this adventure in studying the
terrain within the three miles’ limit with a view to the possibilities
it afforded of escape. In view of the protective zone, which functioned
quite perfectly, the chances were exceedingly poor. Prokop thought out a
few methods of murdering Mr. Holz; but luckily he discovered that this
dry and sturdy being was supporting five children besides a mother and
a lame sister—and that, in addition, he had behind him three years’
imprisonment for manslaughter.
It was a certain satisfaction to Prokop that he had won the passionate
devotion of Mr. Paul, a retired butler, who was delighted that he again
had some one to wait on; for the dear old man was very pained by the
fact that he was considered too slow to wait at the Prince’s table.
Prokop at times became nearly desperate at his oppressive and respectful
attention. Further, Dr. Krafft, Egon’s tutor, who was as ruddy as a
fox, and had been terribly unfortunate in his life, had also become
attached to Prokop. He had received an unusual education, was a bit of a
theosophist, and as well the most absurd idealist which it is possible
to imagine. He approached Prokop with shyness, and admired him without
shame, since he regarded him as at least a genius. He had been acquainted
for some time with Prokop’s technical articles, and had even based on
them a theosophical theory of the lowest plane of manifestation, or, in
more ordinary language, of matter. He was also a pacifist, and, like all
people with too exalted views, a bore.
Prokop finally grew sick of wandering aimlessly about inside the
protective zone and began to visit the laboratory more and more. He
studied his old notes, filled up a lot of gaps in them, and prepared
and afterwards destroyed a large number of explosives, whose structure
confirmed his most daring hypothesis. At this time he was almost happy,
but in the evening he avoided people and languished under the calm glance
of Mr. Holz, looking up at the clouds, the stars, and at the horizon.
One other thing interested him enormously. Directly he heard the beat
of horses’ hoofs he stepped to the window and watched the rider—whether
it was a yard boy, some officer or other, or the Princess (with whom
he had not exchanged a word since that day), with attentive eyes. He
observed that the rider did not actually sit down as in a chair, but to a
certain extent might be said to stand in the stirrups; that he used his
knees and not his back; that he did not allow himself to be passively
shaken about like a sack of potatoes by the movement of the horse, but
actively adapted himself to it. Practically the process was probably very
simple, but for the technical engineer who was watching the mechanism
it appeared to be enormously complicated, especially when the horse
began to rear, prance, or dance about in thoroughbred shyness. Prokop
studied all this for hours, sheltered behind the window curtains; and one
fine morning he ordered Paul to have Premier saddled. Mr. Paul became
extremely disconcerted. He explained that Premier was a high-spirited and
restless animal which had never been fully broken in, but Prokop merely
repeated the order. His riding things were ready in the cupboard; he put
them on with a faint feeling of vanity and went downstairs. Premier was
already there, prancing about and dragging a groom round with him. Prokop
endeavoured to appease the animal by stroking his nostrils, as he had
seen other people do. The creature grew a little more calm, though his
feet still dug into the sand. Prokop approached his side in a calculating
manner, and was just raising his foot to the stirrup when Premier struck
out like lightning with his hind legs, so that Prokop only just had time
to get out of the way. The groom broke into a short laugh. That was
enough. Prokop hurled himself at the horse, somehow got his foot into
the stirrup and heaved himself into the saddle. For the next few moments
he had no idea what was happening; everything spun round, somebody
shouted, Prokop had one foot in the air while the other remained for
some incredible reason in the stirrup. At last Prokop got established
in the saddle, and gripped with his knees with all his strength. He did
this just in time, for immediately afterwards Premier suddenly bucked
violently; Prokop hastily leant back and feverishly tugged at the bridle.
As a result the beast stood up on his hind legs; Prokop tightened his
knees like a vice and put his face forward right between the horse’s
ears, taking great care not to throw his arms around its neck, as he was
afraid that this would appear foolish. He was practically only hanging
on by his knees. Premier ceased to rear and began to twist round and
round like a wolf dog; Prokop utilized this to get his other foot into
the stirrup. “Don’t squeeze him so tightly,” shouted the groom; but
Prokop was glad to feel the horse between his knees. The animal, more
desperately than spitefully, made another attempt to throw his strange
rider; he twisted and kicked, scattering the sand, and all the personnel
of the kitchen ran out to watch this extraordinary circus. Prokop
caught a glimpse of Mr. Paul, who was pressing a napkin to his lips in
consternation, and then Dr. Krafft dashed out, his ruddy hair gleaming
in the sun, and, at the risk of his own life, attempted to seize hold
of Premier’s bridle. “Leave him alone,” shouted Prokop, inordinately
proud, and dug his spurs into the horse’s side. Premier, to whom this
had never happened before, shot off like an arrow into the park. Prokop
drew in his head, so as to fall lightly if it came to the worst; he stood
in the stirrups inclined forward, involuntarily adopting the seat of a
jockey. When flashing past the tennis court in this manner, he noticed
there several white figures; this filled him with fury, and he began to
belabour Premier’s haunches with his whip. At this the animal completely
lost his head. After a number of disturbing sidelong jumps he sat down
on his haunches so that it seemed that he would fall over; but instead
he got up and flew across the lawn. Prokop realized that everything now
depended on holding his head, if they were not both to turn a somersault.
He dragged at the bit for all he was worth. Premier stopped short
suddenly, covered with sweat, and then began to move at a reasonable
trot. Victory was secured.
Prokop was extraordinarily relieved. Now at last he was able to apply
what he had studied so carefully theoretically. The trembling horse
allowed himself to be directed as his rider wished, and Prokop, as proud
as a god, rode him back along the twisting paths of the park towards
the tennis court. He caught a sight of the Princess, racket in hand,
the other side of a bush, and spurred Premier into a gallop. At that
moment the Princess clicked her tongue, Premier rose into the air and
flew towards her like an arrow over the tops of some shrubs; and Prokop,
completely unprepared for this advanced exercise, flew out of the saddle
and descended on to the grass. He felt something go, and the next moment
his senses were obliterated by pain.
When he recovered consciousness he saw in front of him the Princess,
and three men in the embarrassed position of people who do not know
whether to laugh at a joke or run for assistance. Prokop tried to move
his left leg, which lay underneath him, twisted in a surprising manner.
The Princess was watching him with an inquiring and at the same time
frightened expression on her face.
“Now,” said Prokop firmly, “you’ve broken my leg for me.” He was in
great pain, and the shock had confused his mind; nevertheless, he tried
to stand up. When, for the second time, he came to, he was lying in the
Princess’s lap, and she was wiping his sweat-covered forehead with a
strongly scented handkerchief. In spite of the frightful pain in his leg,
he was half in a dream. “Where is ... the horse?” he babbled, and began
to groan. Two gardeners lifted him on to a stretcher and carried him into
the castle. Mr. Paul changed into everything in the world: an angel, a
nurse, a mother. He ran about, arranged the pillows under Prokop’s head,
and poured cognac down his throat; then he sat down at the head of the
bed and allowed Prokop to crush his hand in his spasms of pain. Dr.
Krafft stood near with eyes filled with tears, and Mr. Holz, evidently
touched, cut away Prokop’s riding breeches and applied cold compresses to
his thigh. Prokop groaned quietly, smiling for a moment now and then with
his blue lips at Krafft or Mr. Paul. Then there appeared the regimental
doctor, or rather butcher, accompanied by an assistant, who very soon
started work on Prokop’s leg. “H’m,” he said, “compound fracture of the
femur and so on; at least six weeks in bed, my friend.” He produced two
splints and then began a very unpleasant business. “Stretch his leg
out,” ordered the butcher of his assistant, but Mr. Holz politely pushed
aside the excited beginner and himself seized hold of the broken member
with all his strength. Prokop bit into the pillows so as not to scream
with agony like an animal, and caught sight of the pained face of Mr.
Paul in which was reflected all his own torture. “A bit more,” said the
doctor in a bass voice, feeling the fracture; Holz tugged silently and
violently. Krafft ran out of the room gasping out something in complete
desperation. Then the butcher quickly and adroitly fixed the splints in
position, muttering something about putting the cursed leg into plaster
the next day. At last it was all over; the pain was still terrible, and
the stretched-out leg seemed to be dead, but at least the butcher had
gone away. Mr. Paul still walked about the room on tiptoe, doing all he
could to relieve the patient.
Then Mr. Carson dashed up in a car, and, mounting the steps four at a
time, flew into Prokop’s room, which became filled with his sparkling
sympathy. He was gay and comradely, chattered all sorts of nonsense at a
tremendous speed, and suddenly began to smooth Prokop’s bristly hair in a
friendly, and at the same time timid, manner. Prokop forgave his obdurate
adversary and tyrant nine-tenths of his sins. Then something heavy was
heard coming up the stairs, the door flew open and two lackeys with white
gloves led in the crippled Prince. While still at the door he waved a
preternaturally long and emaciated hand as if to prevent Prokop out of
respect for him rising by some miracle and coming over to greet him; then
he allowed himself to be placed on a chair and delivered himself of a few
phrases of courtly sympathy.
Scarcely had this apparition disappeared than someone tapped at the
door and Mr. Paul whispered something to a chambermaid. A moment after
the Princess came in, still in her tennis things, her face expressing
a mixture of obstinacy and repentance. She had come voluntarily to
apologize for her clumsiness. But before she could say anything Prokop’s
homely, hard, rough-cast face broke into a childish smile. “Now,” said
the proud patient, “am I afraid of a horse or not?”
The Princess blushed so deeply that she became confused and angry with
herself. But she soon regained her self-control, and at once became
again the charming hostess. She told him that a distinguished surgeon
was coming to see him, and inquired what he would like to eat, read, and
so on, further instructing Paul to send a report on the patient’s health
twice a day. Then, after putting something straight on the bed, she left
the room with a brief nod of the head.
When, not long afterwards, the famous surgeon arrived in a car, he was
obliged to wait for some hours, however much he might shake his head over
it. Mr. Eng. Prokop had fallen into a deep sleep.