Seated in his
arm-chair, 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 jewelled 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 his 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 fell 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 the head on his own sword. Even then the features retained
their haughty and contemptuous expression.

He was the last man of the family with whom they had to combat, but
more than a hundred of their own band lay stretched in the court and
before the windows, covering the stairs and rooms with heaps of
bodies; and when the shouts of triumph ceased for an instant, the
groans of the wounded and the dying were heard from every side.

* * * * *

None now remained but women and children.

When the Wallachians broke into the castle, the widow had taken them
all to the attics, leaving the door open, that her brothers might find
a refuge in case they were forced to retreat; and here the