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Автор: Adam Mickiewicz

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"Fool! you cub of a Count! I'll teach you! Thomas, my sabre! I'll
teach you mores, you fool; get to hell out of here! Respects and
offices wound your delicate ears! I'll pay you up right off over
your pretty earrings. Get out of the door, draw your sword!
Thomas, my sabre!"
Then friends rushed to the Chamberlain, and the Judge seized his
hand.
"Hold, sir, this is our affair; I was challenged first. Protazy,
my hanger! I will make him dance like a bear on a pole!"
But Thaddeus checked the Judge:-
"My dear uncle, and Your Honour the Chamberlain, is it fitting
for you gentlemen to meddle with this fop? Are there not young
men here? And you, my brave youth, who challenge old men to
combat, we shall see whether you are so terrible a knight; we
will settle accounts to-morrow, and chose our place and weapons.
To-day depart, while you are still whole."

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