Oncle Charles frowned. “All this gives me a rather disturbed feeling,” he said sharply.
Prokop threw the box down on the table. “What? And I also had a disturbed feeling when you threatened to send me to a fortress.”
“. . . I can say,” said Rohn, accepting the reproach, “that all that . . . made no impression on me.”
“But it made an enormous impression on me,” said the Princess.
“Are you afraid that he will do something?” said le bon prince, turning to her.
“I hope that he will do something,” she said optimistically. “Do you think that he’s not capable of it?”
“I have no doubt about it,” said Rohn. “Shall we go now?”
“No. I should like to help him.”
Just then Prokop was breaking a metal spoon in his fingers. “What’s that for?” she asked him curiously.
“I’ve run out of nails,” he said gruffy. “I’ve nothing to fill the bombs with.” He looked round in search of something made of metal. Then the Princess stood up, blushed, hastily peeled off one of her gloves and removed a gold ring from her finger. “Take this,” she said softly, her eyes cast down. He took it, wincing; it was almost a ceremony . . . as if they were being betrothed. He hesitated, weighing the ring in his hand; she raised her eyes to him in urgent and burning inquiry. Then he nodded seriously and placed the ring at the bottom of a tin box.
