“Bravo!” cried Prince Suwalski and began to applaud loudly. Meanwhile Von Graun had seized Prokop’s right hand, which was still grasping fragments of the bottle, and forced open his fingers. “Water,” he cried, and the fat cousin, agitatedly looking round, grasped a table cover, soaked it in water and put it on Prokop’s forehead.
“Ahahah!” cried Prokop with relief. The attack was over but his head was still swirling from the sudden flow of blood and his knees trembled with weakness.
Oncle Charles was massaging on his knees the twisted, quivering fingers of the Princess. “Games of this sort are dangerous,” he muttered, while the Princess, completely exhausted, was hardly able to draw her breath. But on her lips there trembled a wry but victorious smile. “You helped him,” said the fat cousin, “that’s what it was.”
The Princess stood up, hardly able to move her legs. “The gentlemen will excuse me,” she said weakly, giving Prokop such a burning glance with her eyes that he grew terrified lest the others should notice it. She left the room on the arm of Uncle Rohn. It was now necessary to celebrate Prokop’s feat somehow or other. The company was a good-natured one, consisting largely of young men who were only too ready to show their appreciation of such a heroic deed. Prokop rose enormously in their estimation through the fact that he had broken the bottle and afterwards demonstrated his ability to consume an incredible quantity of wine and liqueurs without finding himself under the table. By three o’clock in the morning Prince Suwalski was triumphantly kissing him, and the fat cousin, almost with tears in his eyes, was addressing him familiarly in the second person singular. Then they began jumping over chairs and kicking up a frightful row. Prokop smiled at everyone and his head was in the clouds. But when they tried to take him off to the only fille de joie to be found in Balttin, he broke free of them, announced that they were drunken cattle and that he was off to bed.
But instead of executing this sensible project he wandered into the dark park and for a long time examined the front of the castle, looking for a certain window. Mr. Holz stood dreaming fifteen yards away, leaning against a tree.
XXXI
The next day it rained. Prokop wandered about the park, angry with himself at the thought that as a result he probably would not see the Princess at all. But she ran out bareheaded into the rain. “Only for five minutes,” she whispered, out of breath, and was about to kiss him. Then she caught sight of Mr. Holz. “Who’s that man?”
Prokop looked round quickly. “Who?” By this time he was so accustomed to his shadow that he had ceased to realize that it was always with him. “That’s … my guard, see?”
The Princess turned her commanding eyes on Mr. Holz, who instantly thrust his pipe into his pocket and retired some distance away. “Come,” whispered the Princess and drew Prokop into a summerhouse. They sat there, not daring to kiss one another, for Mr. Holz was waiting near by, steadily getting soaked. “Your hand,” ordered the Princess quietly, and her passionate fingers grasped the disfigured stumps of Prokop’s paw. “Darling, darling,” she said, and went on: “you mustn’t look at me like that in front of people. I simply don’t know what to do. One day I shall throw my arms round your neck in public and then there’ll be a scandal, O God!” The Princess was simply aghast at the thought.
“Did you go to those girls last night?” she asked suddenly. “You mustn’t, now you’re mine. Darling, darling, it’s so hard for me—why don’t you speak? I’ve come to tell you that you must be careful. Mon Oncle Charles is already on our track. Yesterday you were wonderful!” Her voice betrayed impatience and anxiety. “Do they watch you all the time? Everywhere? Even in the laboratory? Ah, c’est bête! When you broke that bottle yesterday I could have come over and kissed you. You were so magnificently angry. Do you remember the night when you broke your chain? Then I went after you blindly, blindly—”
“Princess,” Prokop interrupted her in a hoarse voice, “there is something you must tell me. Is all this the whim of a great lady or … ?”
The Princess let go of his hand. “Or what?”
Prokop turned his desperate eyes to her. “Are you only playing with me—”
“Or?” she concluded, with evident delight in torturing him.
“Or do you—to a certain extent—”
“—Love you, eh? Listen,” she said, placing her hands behind her head and looking at him through half-closed eyes, “if at any time it seemed to me that … that I loved you, really loved you insanely, then I should attempt to … destroy myself.” She clicked her tongue as she had before on that occasion with Premier. “I should never leave you, if once I fell in love with you.”
“You lie,” cried Prokop, furious, “you lie! I couldn’t bear the thought that this was only … a flirtation. You’re not so corrupt as that! It’s not true!”
“If you know that,” said the Princess with quiet dignity, “why do you ask me?”
“I want to hear you say so,” said Prokop through his teeth, “I want you to say … directly … what I am to you. That’s what I want to hear!”
The Princess shook her head.
“I must know,” said Prokop fiercely, “otherwise—otherwise—”
The Princess smiled
