"To my house. You will not have much comfort, but it is difficult otherwise. At Pan Gideon's you would frighten the women, and Father Voynovski is at my house. He dresses wounds to perfection and he will care for you. You can send for your horses, and then do what may please you. I will ask the priest also to go to Pan Gideon and tell him with caution what has happened." Here Yatsek fell to thinking and soon after he added,-- "Oho! the trouble has not come yet, but now we shall see it. God knows that you, gentlemen, insisted on this duel." "True! we insisted," said Stanislav. "I will declare that and these gentlemen also will testify." "I will testify, though my shoulder pains terribly," said Marek, groaning. "Oi! but you have given us a holiday. May the bullets strike you!" It was not far to Vyrambki. Soon they entered the enclosure, and met the priest wading in snow, for he, alarmed about what might happen, could not stay in the house any longer, and had set out to meet them. Yatsek sprang from the sleigh when he saw him. Father Voynovski pushed forward quickly to meet him, and saw his friend sound and uninjured. "Well," cried he, "what has happened?" "I bring you these gentlemen," said Yatsek. The face of the old man grew bright for a moment, but became serious straightway, when he saw the Bukoyemskis and Stanislav blood-bedaubed. "All five!" cried he, clasping his hands. "There are five!" "An offence against heaven! Gentlemen, how is it with you?" asked he, turning to the wounded men. They touched their caps to him, except Marek, who, since the cutting of his shoulder-blade, could move neither his left nor his right hand. He merely groaned, saying,-- "He has peppered us well. We cannot deny it." "That is nothing," said the others. "We hope in God that it is nothing," answered Father Voynovski. "Come to the house now as quickly as possible! I will care for you this minute. Move on with the sleigh," said he. And then he himself followed promptly with Yatsek. But after a while he stopped on the roadway. Joy shone, in his face again. He embraced Yatsek's neck on a sudden. "Let me press thee, O Yatsek," cried he. "Thou hast brought in a sleigh load of enemies, like so many wheat sheaves." Yatsek kissed his hand then, and answered,-- "They would have it so, my benefactor." The priest put his hand on the head of the young man again, as if wishing to bless him, but all at once he restrained himself, because gladness in this case was not befitting his habit, so he looked more severe, and continued,-- "Think not that I praise thee. It was thy luck that they themselves wished this, but still, it is a scandal."