Lingue

Tastiera

Pagina 477 di 788

Autore: Adam Mickiewicz

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"I arrest you in the name of His Imperial Majesty! Yield your
sword, Count, for I shall summon the aid of the army; and you are
aware, that if any one dares to make a night attack under arms,
it is provided by ukaz one thousand two hundred, that as a
malef--"
Thereupon the Count struck him across the face with the flat of
his sword. The Assessor fell stunned, and disappeared among the
nettles; all thought that he was wounded or dead.
"I see," said the Judge, "that this looks like brigandage."
Every one shrieked; all were deafened by the wailing of Zosia,
who, throwing her arms around the Judge, cried like a child
pricked with needles by Jews.
Meanwhile Telimena had rushed among the horses and extended her
clasped hands towards the Count.
"Upon your honour!" she cried with a piercing voice, with head
thrown back and with streaming hair. "By all that is holy, we
implore you on our knees! Count, will you dare to refuse? Ladies
beg you; savage man, you must first murder us!"

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