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Immediately the line, levelling their gun barrels like poles,

bent down their heads, moved on and quickened their step; in vain

the gentry endeavoured to check them from in front and shot from

the side; the line passed over half the yard without resistance.

The Captain, pointing with his sword to the door of the mansion,

shouted:-

"Surrender, Judge, or I will order your house to be burned!"

"Burn it," cried the Judge, "and I will roast you in that fire!"

O mansion of Soplicowo! if thy white walls are still whole and

glitter beneath the lindens; if a throng of the neighbouring

gentry still sit at the Judge's hospitable board, they surely

often drink the health of Bucket, for without him Soplicowo would

to-day be no more!