The next morning the first to be woke up by Paul’s calling was Dr.
Krafft. He wanted to jump up but found that he was stiff all over, as he
had been frozen the whole night and had slept curled up like a dog. When
he finally somehow pulled himself together he found that Prokop had gone;
one of the boats of his fleet was rocking against the bank. He became
very anxious about his superior and would have set out to look for him if
he had not been afraid of deserting the fortress which he had barricaded
so carefully. He improved it as best he could and looked round for Prokop
with his short-sighted eyes.
Meanwhile Prokop, who had woke up absolutely prostrated, with a taste
of mud in his mouth, chilly, and a little dazed, had been for some time
high in the foliage of an old oak in the park, from which he could see
the whole of the front of the castle. He felt very giddy, held on to the
branches firmly and was afraid to look straight below him for fear of
falling.
This part of the park was evidently regarded as being safe; even the
older members of the family ventured at least as far as the castle steps,
the gentlemen went about in groups of two or three and a cavalcade
of them was making its way along the main road. The old doorkeeper
was again at his post. Soon after ten o’clock the Princess herself
came out, accompanied by the heir to the throne, and set out for the
Japanese pavilion. Prokop suddenly felt giddy; it seemed to him that he
was falling head downwards; he convulsively clutched at the branches,
trembling all over. Nobody followed them; on the contrary, all the rest
quickly left the park and collected together in front of the castle.
Probably a definitive conversation or something of the sort. Prokop bit
his lips so as not to cry out. It took an immense time, perhaps an hour
or even five hours. And then the heir ran back alone, his face red and
his fists clenched. The party of gentlemen in front of the castle broke
up and they drew back to make way for him. The heir ran up the steps
without looking either to the right or to the left. At the top he was met
by the bareheaded Uncle Rohn. They spoke together for a moment, _le bon
prince_ passed his hand across his forehead and both went inside. The
gentlemen in front of the castle again gathered into groups, thrust their
heads together and finally stole away one by one. Five automobiles drew
up before the castle.
Prokop, clutching at the branches, slipped down the tree until he hit
the ground heavily. He wanted to run to the Japanese pavilion, but he
was almost comically incapable of controlling his legs; his head was
swimming, he felt as if he were wading through dough and somehow he
couldn’t find the pavilion, as everything in front of his eyes was dull
and shifting about. At last he reached it. The Princess was sitting
inside, whispering something to herself with severe lips and swishing
her switch through the air. He collected all his strength so as to
come in as cavalierly as possible. She rose and came to meet him: “I
was expecting you.” He sat down next to her, very nearly on top of her,
since he saw her as being a great distance away. He laid his hand on her
shoulder, forcibly holding himself straight, swaying a little and biting
his lips; he thought that he was talking. She also said something, but he
could not understand her; everything was taking place as if under water.
Then came the sound of the horns of the departing cars.
The Princess made a sudden movement, as if her legs had failed her.
Prokop saw before him a white, vague face, in which were two dark
cavities. “This is the end,” he heard close and clear, “the end. Darling,
I’ve sent him away!” Had he been in full possession of his senses he
would have seen her as if carved out of ivory, frozen, beautiful in her
pain at the highest moment of her sacrifice; but he only blinked, trying
to master the trembling of his eyelids, and it seemed to him that the
floor was rising beneath his feet and tilting over. The Princess pressed
her hands to her forehead and staggered; he wanted to take her into his
arms, to carry her, to support her in her exhaustion after her great
deed, but instead he fell without a sound at her feet, collapsing as if
he was nothing but a heap of rags.
He did not lose consciousness; his eyes wandered about; he tried to
understand where he was and what was happening to him. He had the idea
that some one, trembling with fear, was raising him up; he wanted to help
himself, but could do nothing. “It’s only ... entropy,” he said, and it
seemed to him that this characterized the situation and he repeated the
word several times. Then something began to run about inside his head
making a noise like a weir; his head slipped heavily out of the trembling
fingers of the Princess and crashed on to the ground. The Princess jumped
up wildly and ran for help.
He had no clear idea of what happened next. He felt that three people
were lifting him and slowly dragging him along as if he were made of
lead. He heard their heavy, dragging steps and quick breath and was
surprised that they could not carry him with their fingers alone, like
a rag. Some one held his hand the whole time; he turned round and
recognized the Princess. “You are good, Paul,” he said to her gratefully.
Then began a confused, breathless movement; they were carrying him up
the steps, but Prokop thought that they were all falling together to the
bottom of an abyss. “Don’t push so,” he roared and his head spun so much
that he ceased to take anything in.
When he opened his eyes he found that he was again in the guest’s
quarters and that Paul was undressing him with trembling fingers. At
the head of the bed was standing the Princess, with widely opened
eyes. Prokop’s mind was hopelessly confused. “I fell from a horse,
eh?” he muttered. “You ... were ... there, eh? Bang, ex-explosion.
Litrogly—nitrogry—mikro—Ch₂, On₂, O₂. Com—pli—cated fracture.” He felt
the touch of a small, cool hand on his forehead and became quiet. Then
he caught sight of the butcher-doctor and dug his nails into somebody’s
cold fingers. “I don’t want you,” he roared, for he was afraid that
there would be pain again, but the butcher only placed his head on
his chest and breathed heavily. In front of him he saw a pair of dark
and angry eyes which fascinated him. The butcher got up and said to
somebody behind: “Influenza and pneumonia. Take Her Excellence away. It’s
infectious.” Some one spoke as if under water and the doctor answered:
“If it develops into inflammation of the lungs—then——” Prokop realized
that he was lost and that he would die, but the knowledge left him
completely indifferent; he had never imagined that it would be so simple.
“A hundred and five,” said the doctor. Prokop had one wish: that they
would let him sleep until the time came for him to die, but instead they
wrapped him up in something cold,—ough! At last they began to whisper.
Prokop closed his eyes and knew no more about anything.
When he woke up, two dark, elderly gentlemen were standing over him. He
felt very much better. “Good-morning,” he said and tried to raise himself
up. “You mustn’t move,” said one of the gentlemen and gently pushed him
back into the pillows. Prokop obediently lay still. “But I’m better,
am I not?” he asked contentedly. “Naturally,” said the other gentleman
evasively, “but you mustn’t move about. Quietness, you understand?”
“Where’s Holz?” asked Prokop suddenly.
“Here,” came a voice from the corner, and Mr. Holz appeared at the end
of the bed with a terrible scratch and a blue mark on his face, but
otherwise as dry and skinny as ever. And behind him was Krafft, Krafft,
who had been forgotten in the bathing-place, with red and swollen eyes
as if he had been howling for three days. What had happened to him?
Prokop smiled at him to comfort him. Then Mr. Paul came up on tiptoe,
holding a napkin to his lips. Prokop was delighted that they were all
there; his eyes wandered about the room and behind the two dark gentlemen
he caught sight of the Princess. She was deathly pale and was looking at
Prokop with melancholy eyes which somehow frightened him. “I’m all right
now,” he whispered, as if excusing himself. She questioned one of the
gentlemen with her eyes and he gave a resigned nod. Then she came up to
the bed. “Do you feel better?” she asked softly. “Darling, are you really
better?”
“Yes,” he said uncertainly, somewhat oppressed by the serious behaviour
of everybody. “Almost completely recovered, only—only——” Her steadfast
gaze filled him with confusion and almost with anxiety; he felt
uncomfortable and constrained.
“Do you want anything?” she asked, bending over him.
Her glance filled him with a terrible fear. “To sleep,” he whispered, so
as to be free of it.
She looked inquiringly at the two gentlemen. One of them gave a brief nod
and looked at her—with curious seriousness. She understood and turned
still more pale. “Sleep now,” she said in a strangled voice and turned to
the wall. Prokop looked round him in surprise. Mr. Paul had his napkin
pressed to his lips, Holz was standing like a soldier, blinking his eyes,
and Krafft was simply blubbering, leaning against a cupboard and blowing
his nose noisily.
“But what——” cried Prokop, and tried to raise himself up, but one of the
gentlemen placed on his forehead a hand which was so soft and kind, so
reassuring and pleasant to the touch, that he at once calmed down and
sighed with relief. A moment later he was asleep.
He awoke in a curious state of semi-consciousness. There was no light
but that of the lamp on the table, and beside the bed the Princess
was sitting, dressed in dark clothes, looking at him with gleaming,
bewitching eyes. He quickly closed his own so as not to see her, so much
was he embarrassed.
“Darling, how are you?”
“What’s the time?” he asked confusedly.
“Two.”
“In the day?”
“In the night.”
“Really,” he said in surprise, and began to weave again the dark thread
of sleep. At moments he just opened his eyes, glanced at the Princess and
went off again. Why was she looking at him so hard? Some one moistened
his lips with a spoonful of wine; he swallowed it and mumbled something
or other. Finally he fell into a deep, heavy sleep.
He awoke to find that one of the gentlemen in black was carefully
listening to his heart. Five others stood round.
“Incredible,” said the dark gentleman. “He has a heart of iron.”
“Shall I die?” asked Prokop suddenly. The dark gentleman almost jumped
with surprise.
“We shall see,” he said. “If you’ve been able to get through such a
night. How long have you been going about with it?”
“With what?” said Prokop, astonished.
The dark gentleman waved his hand. “Quiet,” he said, “only quiet.”
Prokop, although he felt miserably ill, could not help smiling; when
doctors have no idea what to do they always prescribe quiet.
Then the one with the pleasant hands said to him: “You must believe that
you will get better. Faith works miracles.”