“I’ll give up Krakatit,” he heard his own voice say, to his horror. “I’ll give it up, you hear? I’ll give up everything! A war, a new war, millions of dead. It’s all the same to me. Do you want me to? Say one word—I’m telling you, that I’ll give up Krakatit! I swear that I’ll … I love you, do you hear? What … whatever happens! Even … even if I had to destroy the whole world—I love you!”
“Let me go,” she wailed, struggling.
“I can’t,” he groaned, his face buried in her hair. “I’m the most miserable man on earth. I’m a traitor to the whole world. To the whole human race. Spit in my face, but don’t dr—drive me away! Why can’t I let you go? I’ll give you Krakatit, you hear? I’ve sworn to; but then forget me! Where—where’s your mouth? I’m a monster, but kiss me! I’m lost—”
He swayed as if he were about to fall and now she could slip out of his grasp. He stretched out his arms vaguely and she threw the hair back from her face and offered him her lips. He took her in his arms, quiet and passive, and kissed her closed lips, her burning cheeks, her neck, her eyes; he was sobbing hoarsely and she made no effort to defend herself. Then he grew frightened by her motionless passivity, let her go and drew back. She staggered, passed her hand over her forehead, smiled weakly—and put her arms round his neck.
XLV
They sat together, their eyes staring into the semidarkness. He could feel the feverish beating of her heart; for these hours they had not spoken; she had kissed him insatiably and then wrenched herself away. Now she had turned her face away and was gazing feverishly into the darkness. …
He sat with his hands clasped round his knees. Yes, lost; caught in a trap, fettered, he had fallen into the hands of the Philistines. And now that would take place which must take place. They were putting the weapon into the hands of those who would use it. Thousands upon thousands would perish. Look! was there not in prospect an endless waste covered with ruins? This was a church and that a house; there were the remains of a man. Force was a terrible thing and all evil came from it. A curse on force, the unregenerated spirit of wickedness. Like Krakatit, like himself.
Creative and industrious human weakness, all that is good and noble comes from you. Your work is to bind and link together, to assemble parts and preserve what has been built up. Cursed be the hand which liberates force! Cursed be he who loosens the fetters which bind the elements! Humanity is only a little boat on an ocean of forces; and you, you have let loose a storm, the like of which has never been seen.
Yes, he was letting loose a storm of a kind which has never been known before; he was handing over Krakatit, liberating an element which would blow the boat of humanity into pieces. Thousands upon thousands would perish. Towns and peoples would be wiped off the face of the earth. There would be no limit to the power of anyone who had this weapon in his hands and a corrupted heart. He, Prokop, had done it. Passion is terrible, the Krakatit of human hearts; and all evil comes from it.
He looked at the Princess—without contempt, torn by disturbing passion and sympathy. What was she thinking about now, motionless and as if in a trance? He bent down and kissed her shoulder. It was for this that he was giving up Krakatit. He would give it up and go away so as not to see the terror and shame following his defeat. He would pay the terrible price for his love and go away.
He made a gesture of helplessness. Why did they let him go? What was the use of Krakatit to them while he was still able to give it to others? Ah, that was why they wanted to keep him a prisoner forever! Ah, that was why he must sell himself to them soul and body! He would remain here, here, fettered by passion, and forever he would hate this woman; he would struggle in the throes of cursed love, and all the time he would be inventing hellish devices … and he would be serving them. …
She turned to him with a breathless look. He sat motionless, the tears running down his coarse, rough face. She looked at him with a fixed stare, her eyes full of painful scrutiny; he did not realize that she was doing so, half closed his eyes and remained stupefied by his defeat. Then she quietly got up, turned on the light over the dressing-table and began to dress.
He was recalled to her existence by her
