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When Jacek twirls his whisker, men tremble far and near; 'Gainst

whom he knots his whisker, that man feels mortal fear- Though he

be Prince Radziwill, to fight he will not dare.

You tied a knot against my lord! Unhappy man! And is it you?

Fallen to such a state! The mustachioed Jacek a monkish

alms-gatherer! Great are the judgments of God! And now! ha! you

cannot escape the penalty; I have sworn, he who has shed a drop

of the Horeszkos' blood--"

Meanwhile the Monk had raised himself to a sitting posture on the

bed; and he thus concluded:-

"I rode around the castle; who can tell the names of all the

devils that filled my head and heart! The Pantler? Is he slaying

his own child as he has already slain and ruined me?-I rode up to

the gate; a demon enticed me there. Look how he revels! Every day

a drinking bout in the castle! How many candles there are in the

windows, what music peals through the halls! And shall not this

castle crash down upon his bald head?