son. They were making love to one another with abrupt, mechanical gestures, like those of marionettes. When they saw him they joined hands and began to jump quicker, quicker and ever quicker.
Prokop looked up and saw the Princess bending over him with closed lips and burning eyes. “Beast!” he grunted with dull contempt and quickly closed his eyes again. His heart beat wildly and rapidly. His eyes were stung with sweat and he felt a salty taste in his mouth. His tongue was stuck to his palate and in his throat was a blind, dry thirst. “Do you want anything?” asked the Princess, very close to him. He shook his head. She thought that he was again sleeping, but after a while he said hoarsely: “Where’s that parcel?”
She thought that he was delirious and did not answer. “Where’s that parcel?” he repeated, knitting his brows authoritatively. “Here, here,” she said quickly, and thrust between his fingers a piece of paper which she happened to have in her hand. He quickly crumpled it into a ball, and threw it away.
“That’s not it. I—I want my parcel. I—I want my parcel.”
As he continued to repeat these words and began to rage, she sent for Paul. Paul remembered having seen somewhere a dirty parcel tied up with string, but where was it? They found it in a cupboard; there you are! Prokop clasped it in both hands and held it to his breast. Appeased, he fell into a deep sleep. Three hours later he again began to sweat profusely; he was so weak that he scarcely breathed. The Princess at once sent for the
