On hearing this opinion which disgraced him, Stanislav, though he had a mild spirit by nature, felt the blood rush to his visage. The veins swelled on his forehead, lightning flashed from his eyes, his teeth were gritting terribly, and he grasped the hilt of his sabre. "Come out! Come out this instant!" cried he in a voice choked with anger. Sabres flashed; it was bright in the chamber, for light fell on the steel blades from a torch in the chimney. But three of the Bukoyemskis sprang between the opponents and stood in a line there, the fourth caught Stanislav by the shoulders. "By the dear God, restrain thyself, Stashko! We are ahead of thee!" "We are ahead of thee!" cried the three others. "Unhand me!" screamed Stanislav, hoarsely. "We are ahead!" "Unhand me!" "Hold Stashko, ye, and I will settle with this man while ye are holding him," shouted Mateush; and seizing Yatsek he dragged him aside to begin at him straightway, but Yatsek with presence of mind pulled himself free of Mateush, and sheathed his sword, saying,-- "I choose the man who is to fight first and the time. So I tell you to-morrow, and in Vyrambki, not here." "Oh thou wilt not sneak away from us! Now! now!" But Yatsek crossed his arms on his breast. "Ha, if ye wish without fighting to kill me under the roof of our host, let me know it." At this rage seized the brothers; they stamped the floor with their boot-heels, pulled their mustaches, and panted like wild bears. But since they feared infamy no man of them had the daring to rush at Tachevski. "To-morrow, I tell you! Say to Pan Gideon that ye are going to visit me, and inquire for the road to Vyrambki. Beyond the brook stands a crucifix since the time of the pestilence. There I will wait for you at midday to-morrow, and there, with God's help I will finish you!" He uttered the last words as if with sorrow, then he opened the door and walked out of the chamber. In the yard the dogs ran around Yatsek, and knowing him well, fondled up to him. He turned without thinking toward the posts near the windows, as if looking for his horse there; then, remembering that that horse was no longer alive, he sighed, and, feeling the cool breath of air, repeated in spirit,-- "The wind is blowing always in the eyes of the poor man. I will walk home." Meanwhile, Stanislav was wringing his hands from fierce pain and anger, while saying to the Bukoyemskis, with terrible bitterness,-- "Who asked you to do this? My worst enemy could not have hurt me more than have you with your service." They pitied him immensely, and fell to embracing him, one after the other. "Stashko," said Mateush. "They sent us a decanter for the night; give thyself comfort for God's sake." CHAPTER III