Thaddeus, darting in from the side, slapped his face. The kiss and the blow resounded together, one after the other, as word after word.
The Major was dumbfounded, rubbed his eyes, and, pale with wrath, shouted, "Rebellion, a rebel!"—and, drawing his sword, rushed to run him through. Then the Monk took a pistol from his sleeve, and cried: "Shoot, Thaddeus, aim for the bull's eye." Thaddeus at once seized it, aimed, and shot; he missed, but he deafened and scorched the Major. Rykov started up with his guitar, crying, "Rebellion! rebellion!" and made for Thaddeus; but from the other side of the table the Seneschal swung his arm with a left-hand motion, and a knife whistled through the air between the heads of the company and struck before they saw it flash. It struck the bottom of the guitar and pierced it through and through; Rykov dodged and thus escaped death, but he was frightened; with a cry of "Yagers! Rebellion! In God's name!" he drew his sword, and, defending himself, he retreated to the threshold.
Then on the other side of the room many of the gentry poured in through the windows with swords, Switch at their head. In the hall Plut and Rykov behind him were calling the soldiers; already the three nearest the house were running to their aid; already three glittering bayonets were gliding through the door, and behind them there were bent forward three black helmets. Maciek stood by the door with his switch raised on high, and, squeezing close to the wall, lay in wait for them as a cat for rats; then he struck a fearful blow. Perhaps he would have felled three heads, but the old man either had poor eyesight, or else he was too much wrought up; since, before they put forward their necks, he smote on their helmets, and stripped them off;
