im down with
him to the ground.

The first four who rushed to help the murderer were shot dead by
Jozsef Bardy, who, when he had fired off both his muskets, still
defended his prostrated brother with the butt-end of one, until he was
overpowered and disarmed; after which a party of them carried him out
to the iron cross, and crucified him on it amidst the most shocking
tortures.

On trying to separate the other brother from his murderer, they found
them both dead. With his last strength Barnabas had choked his enemy,
whom he still held firmly in his deadly grip, and they were obliged to
cut off his hand in order to disengage the Wallachian's body.

Tamas, the eldest brother, now alone survived. Seated in his armchair
he calmly awaited his enemies, with a large silver chandelier burning
on the table before him.

As the noise approached his chamber, he drew from its jeweled sheath
his broad curved sword, and, placing it on the table before him,
proceeded coolly to examine the ancient blade, which was inscribed
with unknown characters.

At last the steps were at the door; the handle was turned--it had not
even been locked.

The magnate rose, and, taking his sword from the table, he stood
silently and calmly before the enemies, who rushed upon him with
fearful oaths, brandishing their weapons still reeking with the blood
of his brothers.

The nobleman stood motionless as a statue until they came within two
paces of him, when suddenly the bright black steel gleamed above his
head, and the foremost man fell at his feet with his skull split to
the chin. The next received a deep gash in the shoulder of his
outstretched arm, but not a word escaped the magnate's lips, his
countenance retained its cold and stern expression as he looked at his
enemies in calm disdain, as if to say, "Even in combat a nobleman is
worth ten boors."

Warding off with the skill of a professed swordsman every blow aimed
at him, he coolly measured his own thrusts, inflicting severe wounds
on his enemies' faces and heads; but the more he evaded them the more
furious they became. At last he received a severe wound in the leg
from a scythe, and feel on one knee; but without evincing the
slightest pain, he still continued fighting with the savage mob,
until, after a long and obstinate struggle, he fell without a murmur,
or even a death-groan.

The enraged gang cut his body to pieces, and in a few minutes they had
hoisted his head on his own swor