Krakatit

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 someone, 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. Someone 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.” Someone 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