and terrible emphasis. “But in that case, you understand, you’ll all go up in the air,” roared Prokop, and the uproar again became so terrific that Mr. Holz suddenly stuck his pipe in his pocket and ran into the castle. But again all became quiet. Only the sharp voice gave orders and enunciated clear phrases, to the accompaniment of a dark and threatening murmur; it was as if the conditions of an armistice were being dictated. Twice more there resounded Prokop’s frightful roar; but the sharp voice remained calm, apparently sure of its victory.
An hour and a half later Mr. Carson burst out of Prokop’s room, purple and covered with sweat, snorting and sombre, and hurried round to the Princess’s apartments. Ten minutes afterwards Mr. Paul, trembling with respect, announced to Prokop, who was gnawing at his fingers in his room: “Her Excellence.”
The Princess entered in evening dress, deathly pale, her eyebrows drawn with anxiety. Prokop came forward to meet her, and wished, apparently, to say something; but the Princess stopped him with a movement of her hand that was full of command and protest, and said in a strangled voice: “I’ve come . . . sir, to apologize to you for striking at you. I am infinitely sorry that it happened.”
Prokop flushed, and again wished to say something, but the Princess continued: “Lieutenant Rohlauf is leaving to-day. The Prince begs you to join us at dinner occasionally. Please forget the incident. Au revoir.” She quickly gave him her hand; Prokop touched the ends of her fingers. They were cold, and as if dead.
