against some one’s shoulder, murmured a word of apology and moved away with a sort of convulsive dignity. A few paces further he stopped and looked round, The other man stood regarding him fixedly. Prokop pulled himself together and moved off a little more quickly; but it was no good, he was obliged to give another glance back. The man was still standing and watching him, sticking his head out of his collar like a tortoise. “Let him look,” thought Prokop uneasily, “now I shan’t turn round again.” And he went on as best he could. The man with the turned-up collar followed him. It seemed that he was running. Prokop took to flight in terror.
The world again began to revolve with him. Breathing heavily, with chattering teeth, he leaned against a tree and closed his eyes. He felt horribly ill and was afraid that he would fall, that his heart would burst and that the blood would spurt out of his lips. When he opened his eyes he saw the man with the turned-up collar standing right in front of him.
“Aren’t you Engineer Prokop?” asked the man, as though repeating the question.
“I . . . I haven’t been there,” answered Prokop, trying to lie.
“Where?” asked the man.
“There,” said Prokop, and indicated with his head some place in the direction of Strahov. “What do you want of me?”
“Don't you know me? I’m Thomas. Thomas from the Polytechnic. Don’t you know, now?”
“Thomas,” repeated Prokop, utterly indifferent
