addened with fury, he swung violently round and dashed
the great cart-pole with such violence before him, that it brought
down a shower of lime and mortar from the opposite wall, against which
it fell, after causing great havoc on its way--several chairs and
tables lay despoiled of arms and legs on the ground, and the two-eared
tankard before Vendel-gazda was shivered into a thousand splinters;
while Hanzli lay below one of the tables contemplating the scene at
full length. What became of the hussar, or how he managed to escape in
that critical moment, Heaven only knows; but when Andras looked about
him, after this feat of annihilating rage, he found the reed still at
his mouth, like a cigar twelve feet long, and the hussar standing
opposite to him as before.

A general burst of laughter responded to Andras's gape of
astonishment.

"Well, if ever I saw a match for that since I lived at Kiliti!"
exclaimed the perplexed peasant, rubbing his eyes.

But what were mine host Vendel's feelings during all this excitement?
he who loved peace and quiet, to what had he come at last? Disorder
and misrule had taken possession of his house, he heard oaths which
made his hair stand on end, his snuff-box was rifled without
permission, his poodle's tail trod upon, he himself laughed at, and
finally, open war carried on in his presence, and his favourite
tankard, which had been esteemed and honoured, and had grown old in
his house, was destroyed for ever, never to be used again, even beyond
the grave, where he hoped to meet the three wives who had gone before
him! It was more than a Bohemian-German brewer, who wore a night-cap,
and was married for the fourth time, could be expected to bear.

"Go to your beds, my good folk!" he exclaimed, addressing his
household in piteous accents, and rising solemnly from his seat; "let
me get away from hence, Viczikam; let my bed be warmed with hot irons,
for I am ill, very ill, and perhaps I may die. Alas! I am sick, sick!
Vicza, I am dying!"

"For Heaven's sake, what is the matter?" cried his wife in a tone of
great alarm, which was echoed by all the servants, who were of course
much alarmed also.

"Bring elder-flowers from the attics," cried Mistress Vicza; "get a
linseed poultice directly, boil water for the tea, and warm the pans;
you, Hanzli, run to the barber's for leeches. Beatrice, lay down the
bed immediately, and prepare hot irons--the gazda is sick, very sick;
his head burns like an