Krakatit
239
awakened suddenly from dreaming. Probably another visit. Prokop did not trouble to turn round from the lamp he was using. The door creaked. “Darling!” whispered somebody. Prokop staggered, gripped the table and turned round as if in a dream. The Princess was standing with her hand against the door-post, pale, with a dark, fixed look in her eyes, pressing her hands to her breast as if to muffle the beating of her heart.
Trembling all over, he went across to her and with his fingers touched her cheeks and shoulders as if he could not believe that it was she. She placed her cold fingers on his mouth. Then she looked back into the hall. Mr. Holz had disappeared. . . .
