es were unanimous in saying that they only heard one report. I
felt I was wounded in my left hand, and so put it into my pocket, and I
ran towards my enemy who had fallen. All of a sudden, as I knelt beside
him, three bare swords were flourished over my head, and three noble
assassins prepared to cut me down beside their master. Fortunately,
Branicki had not lost consciousness or the power of speaking, and he
cried out in a voice of thunder,--

"Scoundrels! have some respect for a man of honour."

This seemed to petrify them. I put my right hand under the pistoli's
armpit, while the general helped him on the other side, and thus we took
him to the inn, which happened to be near at hand.

Branicki stooped as he walked, and gazed at me curiously, apparently
wondering where all the blood on my clothes came from.

When we got to the inn, Branicki laid himself down in an arm-chair. We
unbuttoned his clothes and lifted up his shirt, and he could see himself
that he was dangerously wounded. My ball had entered his body by the
seventh rib on the right hand, and had gone out by the second false rib
on the left. The two wounds were ten inches apart, and the case was of an
alarming nature, as the intestines must have been pierced. Branicki spoke
to me in a weak voice,--

"You have killed me, so make haste away, as you are in danger of the
gibbet. The duel was fought in the ban, and I am a high court officer,
and a Knight of the White Eagle. So lose no time, and if you have not
enough money take my purse."

I picked up the purse which had fallen out, and put it back in his
pocket, thanking him, and saying it would be useless to me, for if I were
guilty I was content to lose my head. "I hope," I added, "that your wound
will not be mortal, and I am deeply grieved at your obliging me to
fight."

With these words I kissed him on his brow and left the inn, seeing
neither horses nor carriage, nor servant. They had all gone off for
doctor, surgeon, priest, and the friends and relatives of the wounded
man.

I was alone and without any weapon, in the midst of a snow-covered
country, my hand was wounded, and I had not the slightest idea which was
the way to Warsaw.

I took the road which seemed most likely, and after I had gone some
distance I met a peasant with an empty sleigh.

"Warszawa?" I cried, shewing him a ducat.

He understood me, and lifted a coarse mat, with which he covered me when
I got into the sleigh, and then se