Head first, Prokop fell on to Whirlwind’s back, jumped down, and there he was, certainly torn, but intact, out of breath and attempting a smile. “Quiet,” said the Princess fearfully, for there was a groom just behind the door. Then she threw her arms round his neck: “Prokopo-Kopak!” He pointed to the window outside. “Where?” whispered the Princess, kissing him.
“To the doorkeeper.”
“You stupid! How many are there of you?”
“Three.”
“You can see it’s no good!” She stroked his face. “Don’t attempt it.”
Prokop considered whether there was any other way of abducting her, but it was dark inside the stable, and the smell of a horse is somehow exciting. Their eyes gleamed and they kissed passionately. Suddenly she broke away and recoiled, whispering: “Go away! Go!” They stood opposite one another trembling and with a feeling that the passion which possessed them was an unclean one. He looked away and idly turned a rung in the ladder; only then did he regain control of himself. He swung round towards her and saw that she was biting her handkerchief. She pressed it to her lips and handed it him without a word, as a reward or as a souvenir. And he kissed his arm on the place where her distracted hand had rested. Never had they loved one another so wildly as at that moment, when they were unable to speak and feared to touch one another.
Then there was the sound of steps grating in the gravel outside. The Princess made a sign to him. Prokop swung himself up the ladder, seized some hook or other in the ceiling and, feet first, slipped out of the window. When he had reached the ground again Dr. Krafft threw his arms round him in delight. “You’ve cut the horses’ tendons, eh?” he whispered bloodthirstily; he evidently considered this as a necessary military precaution.
Prokop silently made his way back to the guard’s house, impelled by anxiety regarding Holz. When still some distance away he saw the terrible thing that had happened: two men were standing in the gate, a gardener was erasing from the sand the traces of a struggle, the gate was half open—and Holz was gone. But one of the men had a handkerchief tied round his hand; Mr. Holz had bitten him seriously.
Prokop returned to the park, gloomy and speechless. Dr. Krafft imagined that his superior was concocting another offensive plan and therefore did not disturb him; but Prokop, sighing deeply, sat down on a stump and became absorbed in the contemplation of some torn rag or other. On the path there appeared a workman, pushing in front of him a wheelbarrow full of dead leaves. Krafft, seized with suspicion, set on him and gave him a most terrible beating, in the course of which he lost his spectacles. Then he took the wheelbarrow, representing the spoils of the victory, and hurried back with it to Prokop. “He’s run off,” he announced, and his shortsighted eyes shone with triumph. Prokop only grunted and continued to examine the snow-white object which fluttered in his hands. Krafft occupied himself with the wheelbarrow, trying to think what the trophy would be good for. Finally it occurred to him to turn it upside down: “We can sit on it!”
Prokop picked himself up and went towards the lake, Dr. Krafft following him with the wheelbarrow, probably for the transport of the future wounded. They established themselves in a swimming bath built out on posts over the water. Prokop went round the cubicles. The largest was that belonging to the Princess and still contained a mirror, a handful of hair, a couple of hairpins, a shaggy bathing-robe and some sandals, intimate and abandoned objects. He forbade Krafft to enter it and settled down with him in the men’s cubicle on the other side. Krafft was radiant; he now possessed a fleet consisting of two Rob Roys, a canoe and a tub-shaped boat which was relatively a super-dreadnought. Prokop spent a long time in silently walking up and down the platform over the grey lake and then disappeared into the Princess’s cubicle, sat down on her couch, took the shaggy bathing-gown into his hands and buried his face in it. Dr. Krafft, who, in spite of his incredible lack of observation, had some inkling of his secret, respected his feelings, and went about the place on tiptoe, baling out the water from the warship with a tin and getting together some suitable oars. He displayed considerable military talents, ventured on to the bank and carried stones of all sizes to the bathing-place, including huge ones torn out of a neighbouring wall. Then, plank by plank, he tore up the bridge connecting the bathing-place with the bank. From the material which he thus obtained he was able to barricade the entrance, and he further discovered some priceless rusty nails which he bent into the blades of the oars, points upwards. In this way he obtained a powerful and really dangerous arm.
Having put everything in order and seen that it was all right he wished to report to his superior what he had done, but Prokop was still shut up in the Princess’s cubicle and was so quiet that it seemed as if he were not breathing. So Dr. Krafft remained alone on the floating platform, which splashed coldly on the surface of the water. Now and then there was a plop! as some fish leapt out of the water and fell back again, and sometimes a rustling in the rushes. Dr. Krafft began to feel uneasy in the midst of this solitude.
He coughed in front of his leader’s cubicle and now and then said something under his breath to attract his attention. Finally Prokop came out with his lips set and
