“By what right?” cried Prokop’s voice. The authoritative voice explained something with quiet and terrible emphasis. “But in that case, you understand, you’ll all go up in the air,” roared Prokop, and the uproar again became so terrific that Mr. Holz suddenly stuck his pipe in his pocket and ran into the castle. But again all became quiet. Only the sharp voice gave orders and enunciated clear phrases, to the accompaniment of a dark and threatening murmur; it was as if the conditions of an armistice were being dictated. Twice more there resounded Prokop’s frightful roar; but the sharp voice remained calm, apparently sure of its victory.
An hour and a half later Mr. Carson burst out of Prokop’s room, purple and covered with sweat, snorting and sombre, and hurried round to the Princess’s apartments. Ten minutes afterwards Mr. Paul, trembling with respect, announced to Prokop, who was gnawing at his fingers in his room: “Her Excellence.”
The Princess entered in evening dress, deathly pale, her eyebrows drawn with anxiety. Prokop came forward to meet her, and wished, apparently, to say something; but the Princess stopped him with a movement of her hand that was full of command and protest, and said in a strangled voice: “I’ve come … sir, to apologize to you for striking at you. I am infinitely sorry that it happened.”
Prokop flushed, and again wished to say something, but the Princess continued: “Lieutenant Rohlauf is leaving today. The Prince begs you to join us at dinner occasionally. Please forget the incident. Au revoir.” She quickly gave him her hand; Prokop touched the ends of her fingers. They were cold, and as if dead.
XXVII
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 someone 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
