"You are stupid!" interrupted Macko. "You wish then to fight the envoy?" Here he turned to Powala: "You must excuse him, noble lord. He became wild during the war. It will be better if he does not speak to the German, because he may insult him. I will do it. I will entreat him to forgive. If this _comthur_ be willing to settle it by combat, after his mission is over, I will meet him." "He is a knight of a great family; he will not encounter everybody," answered Powala. "What? Do I not wear a girdle and spurs? Even a prince may meet me." "That is true; but do not tell him that, unless he mentions it himself; I am afraid he will become angry if you do. Well, may God help you!" "I am going to humiliate myself for your sake," said Macko to Zbyszko; "wait awhile!" He approached the Knight of the Cross who had remained motionless on his enormous stallion, looking like an iron statue, and had listened with the greatest indifference to the preceding conversation. Macko having learned German during the long wars, began to explain to the _comthur_ in his own language what had happened; he excused the boy on account of his youth and violent temper, and said that it had seemed to the boy as though God himself had sent the knight wearing a peacock tuft, and finally he begged forgiveness for the offence. The _comthur's_ face did not move. Calm and haughty he looked at Macko with his steely eyes with great indifference, but also with great contempt. The _wlodyka_ of Bogdaniec noticed this. His words continued to be courteous but his soul began to rebel. He talked with increasing constraint and his swarthy face flushed. It was evident that in the presence of this haughty pride, Macko was endeavoring to restrain his anger. Powala having noticed this, and having a kind heart, determined to help Macko. He had learned to speak German while seeking knightly adventures at the Hungarian, Burgundian and Bohemian courts, when he was young. Therefore he now said in that language in a conciliatory but jesting tone: "You see, sir, the noble _comthur_ thinks that the whole affair is unimportant. Not only in our kingdom but in every country the youths are slightly crazy; but such a noble knight does not fight children, neither by sword nor by law." Lichtenstein touched his yellow moustache and moved on without a word, passing Macko and Zbyszko. A dreadful wrath began to raise the hair under their helmets, and their hands grasped their swords. "Wait, you scoundrel!" said the elder _wlodyka_ through his set teeth; "now I will make a vow to you. I will seek you as soon as you have finished your mission." But Powala, whose heart began to bleed also, said: "Wait! Now the princess must speak in favor of the boy; otherwise, woe to him!"