some bloody or treacherous deed, after which vengeance descends as an
inheritance to the heirs: in Poland for the first time do I hear of such
an incident. I feel that in me flows the blood of the manly Horeszkos, I
know what I owe to glory and to my family. So be it I I must break off all
negotiations with the Soplica, even though it should come to pistols or to
the sword! Honour bids me!"

He spoke, and moved on with solemn steps, and Gerwazy followed in deep
silence. Before the gate the Count stopped, mumbling to himself; gazing at
the castle he quickly mounted his horse, and thus in distraction he
concluded his monologue:--

"I regret that this old Soplica has no wife, or fair daughter whose charms
I might adore! If I loved her and could not obtain her hand a new
complication would arise in the tale; here the heart, there duty! here
vengeance, there love!"

So whispering he applied the spurs, and the horse flew towards the Judge's
mansion, just as the hunters came riding out of the wood from the other
direction. The Count was fond of hunting: hardly had he perceived the
riders, when, forgetting everything, he galloped straight towards them,
passing by the yard gate, the orchard, and the fences; but at a turn of
the path he looked around and checked his horse near the fence--it was the
kitchen garden. Fruit trees planted in rows shaded a broad field; beneath
them were the vegetable beds. Here sat a cabbage, which bowed its
venerable bald head, and seemed to meditate on the fate of vegetables;
there, intertwining its pods with the green tresses of a carrot, a slender
bean turned upon it a thousand eyes; here the maize lifted its golden
tassels; here and there could be seen the belly of a fat watermelon that
had rolled far from its parent stalk into a distant land, as a guest among
the crimson beets.

The beds were intersected by furrows; in each trench there stood, as if on
guard, ranks of hemp stalks, the cypresses of the vegetable garden, calm,
straight, and green; their leaves and their scent served to defend the
beds, for through their leaves no serpent dares to press, and their scent
kills insects and caterpillars. Farther away towered up the whitish stalks
of poppies; on them you might think a flock of butterflies had perched,
fluttering their wings, on which flashed, with all the colours of the
rainbow, the gleam of precious stones; with so many different, living
tints did the poppies allure the eye. Amid t