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"Panna Sophia she should be called," interrupted the Warden, "for

she is now grown up, and is no longer a little girl; besides

that, she comes of the blood of dignitaries; she is the

granddaughter of the Pantler."

"Well, it was an omen prophetic of her fate," Protazy concluded;

"I beheld the omen with my own eyes. A year ago our servants were

sitting here on a holiday, drinking mead, and we saw-whack! there

fell from the eaves two sparrows fighting, both old males. One,

which was somewhat the younger, had a grey throat, the other a

black one; they continued to scuffle about the yard, turning over

and over, until they were buried in dust. We gazed at them, and

meanwhile the servants whispered to one another that the black

one must stand for the Horeszko, and the other for the Soplica.