r, for after the death of
the Pantler I stood helpless and did not know what was going on around me.
Luckily to our help came Parafianowicz, bringing from Horbatowicze two
hundred of the Mickiewiczes, who are a numerous and a valiant family of
gentry, every man of them, and nourish an immemorial hatred of the
Soplicas.

"Thus perished a powerful, pious, and just lord, whose ancestors had held
seats in the Senate, worn badges of honour, and carried the hetman's staff
of office; a father to his peasants, a brother to the gentry--and he had no
son left after him to vow vengeance on his grave! But he had faithful
servants; with the blood of his wound I wet my broadsword, called the
penknife--you have surely heard of my penknife, famous at every diet,
market, and village assembly--and swore to notch it on the shoulders of the
Soplicas. I pursued them at diets, forays, and fairs; two I hewed down in
a brawl, two others in a duel; one I burnt in a wooden building, when with
Rymsza we sacked Korelicze--he was baked like a mudfish; but those whose
ears I have cut off I cannot count. One only is left who has not yet
received a reminder from me! He is the own dear brother of that
mustachioed bully; he still lives, and boasts of his wealth; the edge of
his field borders on the Horeszkos' castle; he is respected in the
district, he has an office, he is a judge! And you will yield the castle
to him? Shall his base feet wipe the blood of my lord from this floor? No!
While Gerwazy has but a pennyworth of spirit, and enough strength to move
even with one little finger his penknife, which still hangs on the wall,
never shall a Soplica get this castle!"

"O!" cried the Count, raising his hands on high, "I had a fair foreboding
that I loved these walls, though I knew not that they contained such
treasures, so many dramatic memories, and so many tales! When once I seize
from the Soplicas the castle of my ancestors, I will establish you within
its walls as my burgrave: your tale, Gerwazy, has mightily affected me. I
regret that you did not lead me here at the hour of midnight; draped in my
cloak I should have sat upon the ruins and you would have told me of
bloody deeds. I regret that you have no great gift of narration! Often
have I heard and often do I read such traditions; in England and Scotland
every lord's castle, in Germany every count's mansion was the theatre of
murders! In every ancient, noble, powerful family there is a report of