between its receding
wings stood a spectre--a spectre was the only name for it, as it had no
resemblance to anything human.

A pale face, like the face of one arisen from the tomb, white
dishevelled hair clinging round his temples and hanging over his
bloodshot eyes. He had wrapped a long mantle over his white night-dress
which fluttered about him like the wings of a bat.

It was old Hetfalusy.

In each hand he held a loaded pistol, and as the opening door groaned on
its hinges he cried in a hoarse voice:

"Here I am, but whoever dares to lay a hand upon the girl, him will I
shoot first and the girl afterwards."

But it was a threat which excited little terror, his hands trembled so
and his eyes were scarce able to see what was before them.

Nobody followed him. He passed through the door alone.

The Leather-bell, however, was so terrified lest he should carry out his
threat that he threw himself at the old man's feet, and embracing his
knees, piteously besought him:

"Master, master, oh, my dear master! don't fire, for God's sake! Lay
down your pistols. I assure you that nobody here will hurt you."

"Will ye swear, then, that you will do the child no harm?" gasped old
Hetfalusy.

"Put down your weapons!" cried the rioters.

"Swear that you will not harm her in any way, and then I will put them
down."

"Very well, we swear!" cried some in the rear of the crowd.

"Let that woman swear too," said Hetfalusy, pointing at Dame Zudar with
a shaking hand. None of them did he hold in such horror as her.

The virago smiled and twiddled the knife between her fingers. Craftily
lowering her eyes, and casting a side-long glance at the old man, she
replied:

"And by whom, then, am I to swear?"

"By the name of God, the living God."

"But what shall I swear?"

"Swear that neither you yourself, nor any of your companions, will do
this child any harm, whosoever child she is, and whether what you allege
concerning her be true or not."

"Nothing else?"

"Nothing."

"Would you not save your own grey hairs from being crumpled then?"

"May the Almighty dispose of me as it seemeth Him good."

"Then I will take the oath," cried the virago, and, raising her muscular
right arm heavenwards, she cried:

"No harm shall come to the child, so help me, God!"

Then Hetfalusy calmly surrendered his pistols to the Leather-bell, who
politely kissed his hand for so doing, and straightway fired the pistols
off in the air, s