t.

The next moment the robbers' vehement attack could be heard, as they
fell upon the door with crowbars.

"Come, let us get away," said Lorand, taking Czipra's hand.

The girl faintly answered.

"Oh! I cannot walk. I am fainting."

"Are you wounded?" asked Lorand, alarmed. It was dark, he could not see.

The girl fell against the wall.

Lorand at once took her in his arms and carried her into his room.

The lamp was still burning: he had just finished his letters.

He laid the wounded girl upon his bed.

He was terrified to see her covered with blood.

"Are you badly wounded?"

"Oh, no," said the girl: "see, the knife only went in so deep."

And she displayed the robber's knife, showing on the blade how far it
had penetrated.

Lorand clasped his hands in despair.

"Here is a kerchief, press it on the wound to prevent the blood
flowing."

"Go, go!" panted the girl. "Look after your own safety. They want to
kill you. They want to murder you."

"Aha! let the wretches come! I shall face them without running!" said
Lorand, whose only care was for Czipra: he quickly tried to stem the
flow of blood from the wound in the girl's breast with a handkerchief.
"Lie quiet. Put your head here. Here, here, not so high. Is it very
painful?"

On the girl's neck was a chain made of hair: this was in the way, so he
wished to tear it off.

"No, no, don't touch it," panted the girl, "that must remain there as
long as I live. Go, get a weapon, and defend yourself."

The blows of the crowbars redoubled in force, and the bullets that broke
through the closed windows dislodged the plaster from the walls; shot
followed shot.

Lorand had no other care than to see if the wounded girl's pillows were
well arranged.

"Lorand," said the girl breathlessly. "Leave me. They are numerous.
Escape. Put the lamp out, and when everything is dark--then leave me
alone."

Certainly it would be good to extinguish the lamp, because the robbers
were aiming into that room on account of it.

"Lorand! Where are you? Lorand," Topandy's voice sounded in the
corridor.

At that sound Lorand began to realize the danger that threatened the
whole household.

"Come and take your gun!" said the old man standing in the doorway. His
face was just as contemptuous as ever. There was not the least trace of
excitement, fright or anger upon it.

Lorand rose from his kneeling posture beside the bed.

"Don't waste time putting your boots on!" baw