Prokop, working inclined over this box of powder, was disturbed and
excited by this strong feminine scent; it was as if the Princess herself
was in the laboratory and was bending over his shoulder.
In his youthful ignorance he had never realized that powder was nothing
but starch; he had regarded it as inorganic colouring. Well, starch is
a magnificent thing, let us say, for damping too powerful explosives,
because in itself it is dull and unresponsive; even more so when it
becomes an explosive itself. He had no idea how to begin with it, and
buried his head in his hands, pursued by the penetrating scent of the
Princess. He did not leave the laboratory even at night.
The people at the castle whom he liked best ceased to visit him, as he
was always shut off from them by his work and treated them impatiently,
absorbed all the time in the cursed powder. What the devil was he to try
next? After five days he began to see the light; he feverishly studied
aromatic nitro-amines, after which he began the slowest synthetic work
which he had ever done in his life. One night the powder lay in front of
him, unchanged in appearance and exuding its penetrating scent; a brown
powder, reminiscent of a woman’s healthy complexion.
He stretched himself out on the divan, completely exhausted. It seemed
to him that he saw a placard with the inscription “Powderite, the finest
explosive powder for the complexion,” and on the placard was a picture of
the Princess putting out her tongue at him. He tried to turn away, but
two bare brown arms stretched out from the placard and, medusa-like, drew
him towards her. He pulled a clasp-knife out of his pocket and ripped
it up. Then he had a fear that he had committed a murder, and dashed
away along the street in which he had lived years before. He came upon a
panting motor-car and leapt into it shouting, “Drive quickly.” The car
started off, and only then for the first time did he notice that the
Princess was sitting at the wheel with a leather helmet on her head in
which he had not seen her before. At a turning in the road someone threw
himself in front of the car, evidently to stop it; there was an unearthly
cry, the wheels lurched over something soft, and Prokop woke up.
He realized that he was feverish, got up, and looked about the laboratory
for some kind of drug. He found nothing except pure alcohol; he took a
good pull at it, burnt his mouth and throat, and again lay down with his
head spinning. He saw before him a few formulæ, some flowers, Annie, and
a confused train journey; then everything became fused, and he fell into
a deep sleep.
In the morning he obtained permission to make an experiment on the
artillery ground, a fact which caused Carson extraordinary delight.
Prokop refused the help of a single laboratory assistant, and saw to it
himself that a passage was dug in the sandstone as far from the castle
as possible, in the part of the ground where there were not even any
electrical wires, so that a special fuse was necessary. When everything
was prepared he informed the Princess that at four o’clock precisely
he would explode her box of powder. He gave particular instructions to
Carson to clear the sheds in the vicinity and unconditionally prohibited
the presence of anybody within a circle of half a mile; he further
demanded that on this occasion he should not be accompanied by Holz. Mr.
Carson considered all this fuss to be somewhat excessive, but conceded
all Prokop’s demands.
A quarter of an hour before the appointed time Prokop carried the box of
powder to the seat of the explosion with his own hands, sniffed for the
last time with a certain satisfaction at the Princess’s scent and put
it in the hole. Then he placed beneath it a mercury capsule, connected
with a Bickford cord timed for five minutes, took up his position a short
distance away, and waited with his watch in his hand until it should be
five minutes to four.
Aha, now he would show this proud girl what he could do. This would be an
explosion really worth while, something different from the pop-guns on
the White Mountain, when one had to keep one’s eye open for a policeman
the whole time; it would be a magnificent detonation, a column of fire
reaching up to Heaven, a marvellous force, a noise like thunder; the
heavens would be cleaved by a fiery power and lightning made by the hand
of man.
Five minutes to four. Prokop quickly lit the cord and made off for all he
was worth with his watch in his hand, limping slightly. Three minutes;
quicker! Two minutes, and then he saw to his right the Princess,
accompanied by Carson, making her way to the site of the explosion. For
a second he was rigid with terror, and then shouted to them a warning.
Mr. Carson stopped, but the Princess went on without even looking round.
Carson trotted after her, evidently trying to persuade her to turn back.
Overcoming the sharp pain in his leg, Prokop dashed after her. “Lie
down,” he roared, “for God’s sake lie down!” His face was so terribly
distorted with anger and horror that Mr. Carson turned pale, made two
leaps, and lay down at the bottom of a deep ditch. The Princess continued
her way; she was now not more than two hundred yards from the hole.
Prokop dashed his watch on the ground, seizing hold of her shoulder. “Lie
down,” he yelled. The Princess swung round, giving him a terrible look
for having taken such a liberty. Then Prokop took her in both his hands,
threw her on to the ground, and fell on top of her with all his weight.
Her wiry lean body wriggled desperately beneath him. “Serpent,” hissed
Prokop, and breathing heavily forced the Princess back with all the
strength of his chest. The body underneath him arched itself and slipped
to the side. Strangely enough not a word came through the closed lips
of the Princess; she only breathed shortly and quickly, struggling
feverishly. Prokop thrust his knees between her legs, so that she
should not slip away, and placed his palms over her ears, realizing in
a flash that the explosion might break her ear-drums. Her sharp nails
dug into his neck, and in his face he felt the savage gnawing of four
sharp eye-teeth. “Beast,” gasped Prokop, and attempted to shake off
this aggressive animal; but she would not allow him. A hoarse noise
came from her throat, and her body braced itself and undulated in wild
convulsions. The familiar penetrating scent overpowered Prokop’s senses;
his heart beat agitatedly, and he had a wild desire to jump up, ignoring
the explosion which would take place now in a few seconds. Then he felt
the struggling knees pressing themselves to his leg and two arms twined
themselves convulsively round his neck; on his face he felt the hot,
moist, trembling contact of her lips and tongue. He moaned with agony,
and sought the Princess’s lips with his own. At this moment there was
a frightful explosion, and a column of earth and stones was torn out
of the earth. Something gave Prokop a violent blow on the crown of the
head, but he hardly realized it, for at that instant he was kissing her
mouth, tongue, teeth, her parted and trembling lips. Suddenly her elastic
body collapsed beneath him, shuddering. He had an impression that Mr.
Carson had stood up and was watching him, but hastily threw himself on
the ground again. Trembling fingers caressed Prokop’s neck with wonderful
and intolerable sweetness; parched lips kissed his face and eyes with
tiny trembling kisses, while Prokop thirstily thrust his lips against the
beating warmth of a fragrant neck. “Darling, darling,” came a hot whisper
into his ears, delicate fingers were passed through his hair, and a soft
body pressed its full length against him. Prokop pressed his lips on hers
in an endless kiss.
Sss! Thrust away by her elbow, Prokop jumped up and rubbed his forehead
as if he were drunk. The Princess sat up and arranged her hair. “Give me
your hand,” she ordered coolly, hastily looked round, and then quickly
pressed the hand which he had stretched out against her burning face.
Suddenly she pushed it away, stood up, and, rigid, gazed with large
eyes into the distance. Prokop felt quite embarrassed. He was about to
approach her again, but she made a nervous movement with her shoulder, as
if she were shaking something off. He saw that she was biting her lips
deeply. Only then did he remember Carson, whom he found some distance
away lying on his back—but not in the ditch—and gazing up happily at the
blue sky. “Is it all over?” he said, without getting up, and twiddled
his thumbs on his stomach. “I’m frightfully afraid of such things. Can
I get up now?” He jumped up and shook himself like a dog. “Magnificent
explosion,” he said enthusiastically, and again looked, as it were
casually, at the Princess.
The Princess turned round; she was as white as a sheet, but had herself
completely under control. “Was that all?” she asked carelessly.
“My God,” cried Carson, “as if that were not enough! One little box of
powder! Man, you’re a magician, a devil, the king of hell or some one
like that. What? Really. The king of matter. Princess, behold the king! A
genius, eh? A unique person. Honestly, compared to him we’re ragpickers.
What name have you given to the stuff?” The disconcerted Prokop regained
his equilibrium. “Let the Princess christen it,” he said, glad to be able
to rise to the occasion. “It’s ... hers.”
The Princess trembled. “You might call it ‘Vicit,’” she said sharply
through her teeth.
“What?” cried Mr. Carson. “Aha! Vicit. That means ‘he conquered,’ eh?
Princess, you’re a genius! Vicit! Magnificent. Aha! Hurrah!”
But through Prokop’s head there flashed another and a terrible etymology.
Vitium. Vice. He looked with horror at the Princess, but it was
impossible to read any answer on her strained face.