# Krakatit/Chapter 27

CHAPTER XXVII
The fight with Carson seemed to clear the air a little. Prokop certainly announced that he intended to escape at the first opportunity; but he solemnly undertook that until that time he would refrain from any resort to force or to threats. In recognition of this, Mr. Holz was removed to a distance of fifteen paces, and Prokop was allowed, accompanied by him, to move freely in a circle of three miles from seven in the morning to seven in the evening, to sleep in the laboratory, and to dine where he wished. On the other hand, Mr. Carson quartered a woman and two children in the laboratory (as it happened, she was the wife of a workman who had been killed by an explosion of Krakatit), as a sort of moral guarantee against any “carelessness.” In addition Prokop was assigned a large salary, paid in gold, and he was left free to work or amuse himself as he wished.
Prokop spent the first few days after this adventure in studying the terrain within the three miles’ limit with a view to the possibilities it afforded of escape. In view of the protective zone, which functioned quite perfectly, the chances were exceedingly poor. Prokop thought out a few methods of murdering Mr. Holz; but luckily he discovered that this dry and sturdy being was supporting five children besides a mother and a lame sister—and that, in ​addition, he had behind him three years’ imprisonment for manslaughter.
It was a certain satisfaction to Prokop that he had won the passionate devotion of Mr. Paul, a retired butler, who was delighted that he again had some one to wait on; for the dear old man was very pained by the fact that he was considered too slow to wait at the Prince’s table. Prokop at times became nearly desperate at his oppressive and respectful attention. Further, Dr. Krafft, Egon’s tutor, who was as ruddy as a fox, and had been terribly unfortunate in his life, had also become attached to Prokop. He had received an unusual education, was a bit of a theosophist, and as well the most absurd idealist which it is possible to imagine. He approached Prokop with shyness, and admired him without shame, since he regarded him as at least a genius. He had been acquainted for some time with Prokop’s technical articles, and had even based on them a theosophical theory of the lowest plane of manifestation, or, in more ordinary language, of matter. He was also a pacifist, and, like all people with too exalted views, a bore.
Prokop finally grew sick of wandering aimlessly about inside the protective zone and began to visit the laboratory more and more. He studied his old notes, filled up a lot of gaps in them, and prepared and afterwards destroyed a large number of explosives, whose structure confirmed his most daring hypothesis. At this time he was almost happy, but in the evening he avoided people and languished under the calm glance of Mr. Holz, looking up at the clouds, the stars, and at the horizon.
​One other thing interested him enormously. Directly he heard the beat of horses’ hoofs he stepped to the window and watched the rider—whether it was a yard boy, some officer or other, or the Princess (with whom he had not exchanged a word since that day), with attentive eyes. He observed that the rider did not actually sit down as in a chair, but to a certain extent might be said to stand in the stirrups; that he used his knees and not his back; that he did not allow himself to be passively shaken about like a sack of potatoes by the movement of the horse, but actively adapted himself to it. Practically the process was probably very simple, but for the technical engineer who was watching the mechanism it appeared to be enormously complicated, especially when the horse began to rear, prance, or dance about in thoroughbred shyness. Prokop studied all this for hours, sheltered behind the window curtains; and one fine morning he ordered Paul to have Premier saddled. Mr. Paul became extremely disconcerted. He explained that Premier was a high-spirited and restless animal which had never been fully broken in, but Prokop merely repeated the order. His riding things were ready in the cupboard; he put them on with a faint feeling of vanity and went downstairs. Premier was already there, prancing about and dragging a groom round with him. Prokop endeavoured to appease the animal by stroking his nostrils, as he had seen other people do. The creature grew a little more calm, though his feet still dug into the sand. Prokop approached his side in a calculating manner, and was just raising his foot to the stirrup when Premier ​struck out like lightning with his hind legs, so that Prokop only just had time to get out of the way. The groom broke into a short laugh. That was enough. Prokop hurled himself at the horse, somehow got his foot into the stirrup and heaved himself into the saddle. For the next few moments he had no idea what was happening; everything spun round, somebody shouted, Prokop had one foot in the air while the other remained for some incredible reason in the stirrup. At last Prokop got established in the saddle, and gripped with his knees with all his strength. He did this just in time, for immediately afterwards Premier suddenly bucked violently; Prokop hastily leant back and feverishly tugged at the bridle. As a result the beast stood up on his hind legs; Prokop tightened his knees like a vice and put his face forward right between the horse’s ears, taking great care not to throw his arms around its neck, as he was afraid that this would appear foolish. He was practically only hanging on by his knees. Premier ceased to rear and began to twist round and round like a wolf dog; Prokop utilized this to get his other foot into the stirrup. ‘Don’t squeeze him so tightly,” shouted the groom; but Prokop was glad to feel the horse between his knees. The animal, more desperately than spitefully, made another attempt to throw his strange rider; he twisted and kicked, scattering the sand, and all the personnel of the kitchen ran out to watch this extraordinary circus. Prokop caught a glimpse of Mr. Paul, who was pressing a napkin to his lips in consternation, and then Dr. Krafft dashed out, his ruddy hair gleaming in the sun, and, at the risk of his own life, ​attempted to seize hold of Premier’s bridle. “Leave him alone,” shouted Prokop, inordinately proud, and dug his spurs into the horse’s side. Premier, to whom this had never happened before, shot off like an arrow into the park. Prokop drew in his head, so as to fall lightly if it came to the worst; he stood in the stirrups inclined forward, involuntarily adopting the seat of a jockey. When flashing past the tennis court in this manner, he noticed there several white figures; this filled him with fury, and he began to belabour Premier's haunches with his whip. At this the animal completely lost his head. After a number of disturbing sidelong jumps he sat down on his haunches so that it seemed that he would fall over; but instead he got up and flew across the lawn. Prokop realized that everything now depended on holding his head, if they were not both to turn a somersault. He dragged at the bit for all he was worth. Premier stopped short suddenly, covered with sweat, and then began to move at a reasonable trot. Victory was secured.
Prokop was extraordinarily relieved. Now at last he was able to apply what he had studied so carefully theoretically. The trembling horse allowed himself to be directed as his rider wished, and Prokop, as proud as a god, rode him back along the twisting paths of the park towards the tennis court. He caught a sight of the Princess, racket in hand, the other side of a bush, and spurred Premier into a gallop. At that moment the Princess clicked her tongue, Premier rose into the air and flew towards her like an arrow over the tops of some shrubs; and Prokop, completely unprepared for this ​advanced exercise, flew out of the saddle and descended on to the grass. He felt something go, and the next moment his senses were obliterated by pain.
When he recovered consciousness he saw in front of him the Princess, and three men in the embarrassed position of people who do not know whether to laugh at a joke or run for assistance. Prokop tried to move his left leg, which lay underneath him, twisted in a surprising manner. The Princess was watching him with an inquiring and at the same time frightened expression on her face.
“Now,” said Prokop firmly, “you've broken my leg for me.” He was in great pain, and the shock had confused his mind; nevertheless, he tried to stand up. When, for the second time, he came to, he was lying in the Princess’s lap, and she was wiping his sweat-covered forehead with a strongly scented handkerchief. In spite of the frightful pain in his leg, he was half in a dream. “Where is . . . the horse?” he babbled, and began to groan. Two gardeners lifted him on to a stretcher and carried him into the castle. Mr. Paul changed into everything in the world: an angel, a nurse, a mother. He ran about, arranged the pillows under Prokop’s head, and poured cognac down his throat; then he sat down at the head of the bed and allowed Prokop to crush his hand in his spasms of pain. Dr. Krafft stood near with eyes filled with tears, and Mr. Holz, evidently touched, cut away Prokop’s riding breeches and applied cold compresses to his thigh. Prokop groaned quietly, smiling for a moment now and then with his blue lips at Krafft ​or Mr. Paul. Then there appeared the regimental doctor, or rather butcher, accompanied by an assistant, who very soon started work on Prokop’s leg. “H’m,” he said, “compound fractiure of the femur and so on; at least six weeks in bed, my friend.” He produced two splints and then began a very unpleasant business. “Stretch his leg out,” ordered the butcher of his assistant, but Mr. Holz politely pushed aside the excited beginner and himself seized hold of the broken member with all his strength. Prokop bit into the pillows so as not to scream with agony like an animal, and caught sight of the pained face of Mr. Paul in which was reflected all his own torture. “A bit more,” said the doctor in a bass voice, feeling the fracture; Holz tugged silently and violently. Krafft ran out of the room gasping out something in complete desperation. Then the butcher quickly and adroitly fixed the splints in position, muttering something about putting the cursed leg into plaster the next day. At last it was all over; the pain was still terrible, and the stretched-out leg seemed to be dead, but at least the butcher had gone away. Mr. Paul still walked about the room on tiptoe, doing all he could to relieve the patient.
Then Mr. Carson dashed up in a car, and, mounting the steps four at a time, flew into Prokop’s room, which became filled with his sparkling sympathy. He was gay and comradely, chattered all sorts of nonsense at a tremendous speed, and suddenly began to smooth Prokop’s bristly hair in a friendly, and at the same time timid, manner. Prokop forgave his obdurate adversary and tyrant nine​tenths of his sins. Then something heavy was heard coming up the stairs, the door flew open and two lackeys with white gloves led in the crippled Prince. While still at the door he waved a preternaturally long and emaciated hand as if to prevent Prokop out of respect for him rising by some miracle and coming over to greet him; then he allowed himself to be placed on a chair and delivered himself of a few phrases of courtly sympathy.
Scarcely had this apparition disappeared than someone tapped at the door and Mr. Paul whispered something to a chambermaid. A moment after the Princess came in, still in her tennis things, her face expressing a mixture of obstinacy and repentance. She had come voluntarily to apologize for her clumsiness. But before she could say anything Prokop’s homely, hard, rough-cast face broke into a childish smile. “Now,” said the proud patient, “am I afraid of a horse or not?”
The Princess blushed so deeply that she became confused and angry with herself. But she soon regained her self-control, and at once became again the charming hostess. She told him that a distinguished surgeon was coming to see him, and inquired what he would like to eat, read, and so on, further instructing Paul to send a report on the patient’s health twice a day. Then, after putting something straight on the bed, she left the room with a brief nod of the head.
When, not long afterwards, the famous surgeon arrived in a car, he was obliged to wait for some hours, however much he might shake his head over it. Mr. Eng. Prokop had fallen into a deep sleep.