out of himself. It all winds out of you as if from a skein.”
“That isn’t true,” Prokop protested. “Why did I meet the Princess? Grandfather, perhaps . . . you know me. You know that I’ve been looking for . . . that other one, you understand? And yet it happened that—why? Tell me!”
The old man considered this, munching with his soft lips. “It was your pride,” he said slowly. “Sometimes it happens to a man like that, he doesn’t know why, but it’s because he has it in him. And he begins to throw himself about” He illustrated what he was saying with the whip, so that the horse became uneasy and increased its pace. “P-r-r-r, what, what?” he cried to it in a thin voice. “You see, it’s the same as when some little chap gives himself airs; he upsets everybody. And there’s no need to make such a fuss. Sit still and watch the road and you’ll get there all right.”
“Grandfather,” cried Prokop, half closing his eyes in pain, “have I done wrong?”
“Yes and no,” said the old man cautiously. “You’ve hurt people. If you had been sensible you wouldn’t have done it. One must be sensible. And a man must realize the meaning of everything. For instance . . . you can burn a hundred crown note, or use it to pay your debts. If you burn it it looks more, but . . . it’s the same with women,” he concluded unexpectedly.
“Did I behave badly?”
“What?”
“Was I wicked?”
“. . . You weren’t clean inside. A man . . .
