o fire an alarm signal from the
mortar, and to close the gates below and fasten them with a bar. There was
no one in the whole castle except the Pantler, myself, and the lady; the
cook and two turnspits, all three drunk; the parish priest, a servingman,
and four footmen, all bold fellows. So to arms and to the windows! Here a
throng of Muscovites came streaming across the terrace to the door,
shouting 'Hurrah!' But we met them with bullets from ten guns, 'Back with
you!' Nothing could be seen; the servants shot without cessation from the
lower stories, and my lord and I from the balcony. All went finely,
although amid such great alarm. Twenty guns lay here on this floor; we
shot one and they handed us another; the parish priest attended diligently
to this task, and the lady and her daughter, and the serving maids: there
were but three marksmen, yet the fire was unceasing. The Muscovite boors
showered on us a hail of bullets from below; we replied from above
sparsely, but with better aim. Three times that rabble pressed up to the
door, but each time three of them bit the dust: so they fled behind the
storehouse. It was already early dawn; with a cheerful face the Pantler
came out on the balcony with his gun, and whenever a Muscovite thrust
forth his brow from behind the storehouse he at once fired--and he never
missed; each time a black helmet fell on the grass; so that at length
scarcely a man crept out from behind the wall. The Pantler, seeing his
enemies in confusion, thought of making a sally; he seized his sabre, and,
shouting from the balcony, gave orders to the servants; turning to me he
said: 'Follow me, Gerwazy!' At that instant there was a shot from behind
the gate; the Pantler's speech faltered, he turned red, turned pale, tried
to speak, spat blood. Then I perceived that he had received the bullet
full in the breast; my lord, tottering, pointed towards the gate. I
recognised that villain Soplica, I recognised him! by his stature and by
his mustaches I By his shot the Pantler had perished; I saw it! The
villain still held his gun raised aloft; smoke still came from the barrel!
I sighted at him; the brigand stood as if petrified! Twice I fired, and
both shots missed; whether from hatred or from grief, I aimed ill. I heard
the shrieks of women; I looked around--my lord was no longer living."

Here Gerwazy paused and burst into a flood of tears; then he concluded:--

"The Muscovites had already broken down the doo