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 He bent over her; they kissed in reconciliation. Above the noise of the rain came that of the approaching steps of Mr. Holz.

It’s impossible, impossible! The whole day Prokop wandered about trying to catch sight of her. “You mustn't appear this evening.” Of course, you don’t belong to their society; she feels more free among those swells. It was extraordinary; in the depths of his soul Prokop was aware that he did not really love her, yet he was tortured, full of anger and humiliation. That evening he wandered about the park in the rain thinking of the Princess sitting in the salon in an atmosphere of gaiety and freedom; he felt like a mangy dog which had been kicked out into the rain. There is nothing more painful in life than to be ashamed.

Now we’ll put an end to all this, he decided. He ran home, hurried into evening dress and burst into the smoking-room as he had the evening before. The Princess looked very unhappy, but directly she caught sight of Prokop her lips relaxed into a smile of delight. The other young people welcomed him with friendliness; only Oncle Charles was a shade more formal. The Princess warned him with her eyes: be careful! She hardly spoke at all, as if somehow she was disconcerted; but nevertheless she found an opportunity to slip into Prokop’s hand a crumpled note. “Darling, darling,” she had scrawled in pencil in large letters, ‘‘what have you done? Leave us.” He screwed the piece of paper into a ball. No, Princess, no, I shall remain here. I enjoy seeing your relations with these perfumed