Krakatit/Chapter 41
CHAPTER XLI
The next morning the first to be woke up by Paul’s calling was Dr. Krafft. He wanted to jump up but found that he was stiff all over, as he had been frozen the whole night and had slept curled up like a dog. When he finally somehow pulled himself together he found that Prokop had gone; one of the boats of his fleet was rocking against the bank. He became very anxious about his superior and would have set out to look for him if he had not been afraid of deserting the fortress which he had barricaded so carefully. He improved it as best he could and looked round for Prokop with his short-sighted eyes.
Meanwhile Prokop, who had woke up absolutely prostrated, with a taste of mud in his mouth, chilly, and a little dazed, had been for some time high in the foliage of an old oak in the park, from which he could see the whole of the front of the castle. He felt very giddy, held on to the branches firmly and was afraid to look straight below him for fear of falling.
This part of the park was evidently regarded as being safe; even.the older members of the family ventured at least as far as the castle steps, the gentlemen went about in groups of two or three and a cavalcade of them was making its way along the main road. The old doorkeeper was again at his post. Soon after ten o’clock the Princess herself came out, accompanied by the heir to the throne, and set out for the Japanese pavilion. Prokop suddenly felt giddy; it seemed to him that he was falling head downwards; he convulsively clutched at the branches, trembling all over. Nobody followed them; on the contrary, all the rest quickly left the park and collected together in front of the castle. Probably a definitive conversation or something of the sort. Prokop bit his lips so as not to cry out. It took an immense time, perhaps an hour or even five hours. And then the heir ran back alone, his face red and his fists clenched. The party of gentlemen in front of the castle broke up and they drew back to make way for him. The heir ran up the steps without looking either to the right or to the left. At the top he was met by the bareheaded Uncle Rohn. They spoke together for a moment, le bon prince passed his hand across his forehead and both went inside. The gentlemen in front of the castle again gathered into groups, thrust their heads together and finally stole away one by one. Five automobiles drew up before the castle.
Prokop, clutching at the branches, slipped down the tree until he hit the ground heavily. He wanted to run to the Japanese pavilion, but he was almost comically incapable of controlling his legs; his head was swimming, he felt as if he were wading through dough and somehow he couldn’t find the pavilion, as everything in front of 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 some one, 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. Some one 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.” Some one 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 yes 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 bed. “Do you feel better?” she asked softly. “Darling, are you really better?”
“Yes,” he said uncertainly, somewhat oppressed by the serious behaviour of everybody. “Almost completely recovered, only—only” Her steadfast gaze filled him with confusion and almost with anxiety; he felt uncomfortable and constrained.
“Do you want anything?” she asked, bending over him.
Her glance filled him with a terrible fear. “To sleep,” he whispered, so as to be free of it.
She looked inquiringly at the two gentlemen. One of them gave a brief nod and looked at her—with curious seriousness. She understood and turned still more pale. “Sleep now,” she said in a strangled voice and turned to the wall. Prokop looked round him in surprise. Mr. Paul had his napkin pressed to his lips, Holz was standing like a soldier, blinking his eyes, and Krafft was simply blubbering, leaning against a cupboard and blowing his nose noisily.
“But what ” cried Prokop, and tried to raise himself up, but one of the gentlemen placed on his forehead a hand which was so soft and kind, so reassuring and pleasant to the touch, that he at once calmed down and sighed with relief. A moment later he was asleep.
He awoke in a-curious state of semi-consciousness. There was no light but that of the lamp on the table, and beside the bed the Princess was sitting, dressed in dark clothes, looking at him with gleaming, bewitching eyes. He quickly closed his own so as not to see her, so much was he embarrassed.
“Darling, how are you?”
“What’s the time?” he asked confusedly.
“Two.”
“In the day?”
“In the night.”
“Really,” he said in surprise, and began to weave again the dark thread of sleep. At moments he just opened his eyes, glanced at the Princess and went off again. Why was she looking at him so hard? Some one moistened his lips with a spoonful of wine; he swallowed it and mumbled something or other. Finally he fell into a deep, heavy sleep.
He awoke to find that one of the gentlemen in black was carefully listening to his heart. Five others stood round.
“Incredible,” said the dark gentleman. “He has a heart of iron.”
“Shall I die?” asked Prokop suddenly. The dark gentleman almost jumped with surprise.
“We shall see,” he said. “If you’ve been able to get through such a night. How long have you been going about with it?”
“With what?” said Prokop, astonished.
The dark gentleman waved his hand. “Quiet,” he said, “only quiet.” Prokop, although he felt miserably ill, could not help smiling; when doctors have no idea what to do they always prescribe quiet.
Then the one with the pleasant hands said to him: “You must believe that you will get better. Faith works miracles.”