“Stop,” he begged her and took her into his trembling arms. “I’m not your equal . . . in birth . . .”
“What did you say? Equal? Do you think that if you had been a prince I should have come to you? If you wanted me to treat you like an equal I shouldn’t have been with you . . . like this,” she cried. “There’s a big difference, you understand?” Prokop’s hands fell. “You shouldn’t have said such a thing,” he said through his teeth, recoiling.
She threw her arms round his neck. “Darling, darling, let me speak! Am I reproaching you? I came . . . alone . . . because you wanted to escape or to get yourself killed, I don’t know what; any girl would have done the same. . . . Do you think that I was wrong to do it? Tell me! Did I do wrong? You don’t understand,” she said, wincing, “you don’t understand!”
“Wait,” cried Prokop. He extricated himself from her embrace, and paced up and down the room. Suddenly he was blinded by a sudden hope. “Do you believe in me? Do you believe that I shall do something? I can work terribly hard. I’ve never thought about fame, but if you wished it . . . I’d exert all my strength! You know that Darwin was carried to his coffin by dukes? If you wished, I could do . . . tremendous things. I can work—I could change the face of the world. Give me ten years and you’ll see”
It seemed as if she was not listening to him. “If you were a prince it would be enough to look at you, give you one’s hand and you would know, you would know, you musn’t doubt—it wouldn’t
