"Very well, I will come."
Michael Petroff rose and made his toilet slowly and scrupulously. The attendant came back and begged him to hurry. Michael Petroff was tying his cravat carefully. "I am coming at once," said he impatiently, "but I can't make a call half dressed."
Finally he was ready; he looked in the glass a moment, stroked his moustache and stepped out.
"Oh Captain!" whispered the little lawyer through the crack of the door, for the knocking and talking in Petroff's room had made him still more anxious. "I beg you—!"
"I am in a hurry," answered Michael Petroff, and hastened along the corridor. As he passed Engelhardt's door he heard him declaiming: "We pray thee, do not destroy the dome of the world. Praised be thy name!" And with an altered, gasping voice Engelhardt went on: "I am struggling, I am struggling—!" In the room overhead a step went restlessly up and down, back and forth, like the distant throbbing of a machine.
Then the attendant opened the door of the "Rajah's" room and Michael Petroff stepped in.
"Good morning!" said he, loudly and cheerfully, as if it were broad daylight and as if the "Rajah" were not a dying man. "Good morning, Doctor. Here I am.—Good morning—Prince!" he added more softly after a glance at the "Rajah." "Michael Petroff, Captain in the Russian army."
The "Rajah's" appearance had greatly impressed Michael Petroff. The "Rajah" was sitting up in bed with his great dark eyes fixed upon him. A shaded electric light burned above his head, but in spite of the dim light the "Rajah's" face, framed by his dark hair and beard, shone like dull gold, yes, it positively shone. And it was this strange brightness which had so impressed Michael Petroff that he spoke more softly and addressed him as Prince. He had, in fact, never seriously considered who the "Rajah" really was. He was a Prince, who possessed a great kingdom somewhere and lived in exile. Now Michael Petroff believed all this without thinking very much about it. Yet at this moment he understood that the "Rajah" was a Prince, and he entirely altered his bearing toward him.
"You were pleased to send for me?" said he, with timid hesitation, and bowed.
The "Rajah" turned his face toward Dr. März.