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.
