was vigorous and prompt. I was amazed; the
Muscovites kept falling close by me; the beasts aimed poorly.--At the sight
of their overthrow hatred again overcame me.--That Pantler a victor! And
shall he prosper thus in his every purpose? And shall he triumph even over
this fearful assault? I was riding away, smitten with shame.--Day was just
dawning; suddenly I beheld him and recognised him; he stepped out on the
balcony and his diamond buckle glittered in the sun; proudly he twirled
his mustache and proudly gazed around; and it seemed to me that he mocked
at me above all others, that he had recognised me and that thus he pointed
his hand at me, scoffing and threatening,--I seized a carbine from a
Muscovite; I barely raised it to my shoulder, scarcely aimed--it went off!
You know the rest!

"Cursed firearms! He who slays with the sword must take his stand and
press on; he parries and flourishes; he may disarm his enemy and check his
sword halfway. But with these firearms it is enough to hold the gun; an
instant, a single spark----

* * * * * * * *

"Did I flee when you aimed at me from above? I levelled my eyes at the two
barrels of your gun. What despair! A strange grief pinned me to the earth!
Why, Gerwazy, ah why did you miss at that time? You would have done me a
kindness!--evidently as a penance for my sin I must needs----"

Here his breath failed him once more.

"God knows," said the Warden, "I sincerely wished to hit you! How much
blood did you shed by your one shot! How many disasters have fallen upon
us and upon your family, and all of them through your guilt alone, Pan
Jacek! And yet to-day, when the yagers aimed at the Count (the last of the
Horeszkos, though in the female line), you preserved him; and when the
Muscovites shot at me you threw me on the ground, so that you have been
the saviour of us both. If it is true that you are a monk, in holy orders,
then your habit shields you from my penknife. Farewell, I will set foot no
more upon your threshold; our account is clear--let us leave the rest to
the Lord."

Jacek stretched out his hand--but Gerwazy started back.

"Without dishonour to my noble blood," he said, "I cannot touch a hand
denied by such a murder, committed for private vengeance, and not _pro
publico bono_."

But Jacek, sinking from the pillows into the bed, turned to the Judge and
grew more and more pale; he eagerly asked for the parish priest, and cried
to