The old man said nothing and looked musingly at the mouse. Again the little creature tried to pull out the same ticket; but no, it was impossible and it extracted the next one instead. This was a picture of the Princess. Prokop moaned and let it fall on to the ground. The old man silently bent down and picked it up.
“Let me try myself,” cried Prokop hoarsely, and thrust his hand into the box. But the old man stopped him: “That’s not allowed!”
“But she . . . she’s there,” said Prokop through his teeth. “The right one’s there!”
“Everybody’s there,” said the old man, caressing the box. “Now you shall have your planet.” He whistled quietly, and the mouse ran along his arm and drew out a green slip of paper. A moment later it was back again; evidently Prokop frightenéd it. “Read it to yourself,” said the old man, carefully putting the box away. “I’ll be fetching some wood—and don’t be worried.”
He stroked the horse’s side, stowed the box away in the bottom of the cart and set off for the thicket. His light-coloured coat disappeared in the darkness. The horse watched him for a moment and then jerked his head and followed him. “Ihaha,” the old man could be heard saying, “so you want to come with me? Ah! Hoty, hotyhot, ma-ly!”
They disappeared in the fog and Prokop remembered the green ticket. “Your planet,” he read by the flickering light. “You are an honourable man, with a good heart and more learned than others in your profession. You will have to suffer a lot of opposition, but if you avoid impetuousness and arro-
