Down he went backward into the arms of his friend, who, however, instead of laying him down and giving me a moment of breathing time, held him up with his left arm and lunged instantly at me with his right. The movement was so rapid that I could not withdraw my foot in time, and I received a nasty dig in the soft of my leg.
But my man found he had made a bad speculation, for, rushing quickly upon him while he still stood hampered by his unconscious companion, I easily passed through his scrambling defence, and he dropped Rachmanof with a curse as my sword cut through his arm.
Then he stood and stamped his feet, cursing at the pain and shouting to the third man, who stood at the foot of the stairs, to come forward and help slay the filthy Cossack who had wounded both himself and Vassia.
‘Better leave me alone, friend, and take these fellows away, lest a worse thing happen!’ I cried aloud, with a laugh. ‘See what an advantage I have in this position!—be sure I shall spit you if you come nearer!’
The fellow seemed to consider for a moment, while Rachmanof lay and groaned and the other sat and cursed. He came close to Rachmanof and examined his wound, which was an ugly gash in the head, and did not look likely to have a quick mending.
‘Can you fight any more, Gregorief?’ he asked of the other fellow, who sat and cursed with a hole in his shoulder or arm.
‘How the devil can I fight with my sword arm pierced? A pretty coward are you to hesitate: spit the jeering beast through the stomach, and maybe I shall be able to help in sending him on towards hell.’
Almost before he had finished speaking, the third man, the unwounded one, made a rush upwards as though to lunge at me with his sword, but instead of doing so he suddenly ducked his head, and, spreading himself forward on his face, very quickly and dexterously seized my ankle, and with a violent tug upset me, so that I fell upon the back of my head on the stairs. It was a mighty crash, and as I fell I heard a kind of tumult on the landing above me; but from the moment my head touched the floor I knew nothing until I regained consciousness in the ante-room, and observed with surprise that I lay there with Vera weeping at my feet and the good mother praying at my head, as though I were already a corpse.
I felt pain in my leg and pain in my left arm, and a most racking pain in my head, so that for the first few moments I could not for my life remember what had happened to me. ‘What is the matter?’ I asked. ‘What has happened? Why do you weep, Vera?’
‘You have fought a great fight for us, my son,’ said the mother, ‘and have put to flight our enemies, for which the blessing of God shall rest upon you. Vera weeps because she fears you are sorely hurt, but I think there is no cause for fear. You have two flesh wounds, and a terrible blow on the back of your head has sent your wits wandering; but you will soon be better now that you know us and can speak. Do you remember fighting young Rachmanof and two others on the stairs?’