At last Kokosinski spoke in a voice broken with rage: “Since we are received here so courteously, nothing remains to us but to bow to the polished lady and go—with thanks for the entertainment.”
Then he bowed, touching the floor with his cap in purposed humility; after him all the others bowed, and went out in order. When the door closed after the last man, Olenka fell exhausted into the armchair, panting heavily, for she had not so much strength as daring.
They assembled in counsel in front of the entrance near their horses, but no man wanted to speak first. At last Kokosinski said, “Well, dear lambs, what’s that?”
“Do you feel well?”
“Do you?”
“Ei! but for Kmita,” said Ranitski, rubbing his hands convulsively, “we would revel with this lady here in our own fashion.”
“Go meet Kmita,” piped Rekuts.
Ranitski’s face was covered completely with spots, like the skin of a leopard. “I’ll meet him and you too, you reveller, wherever it may please you!”
“That’s well!” cried Rekuts.
Both rushed to their sabres, but the gigantic Kulvyets-Hippocentaurus thrust himself between. “See this fist!” said he, shaking as it were a loaf of bread; “see this fist!” repeated he. “I’ll smash the head of the first man who draws his sabre.” And he looked now at one and now at the other, as if asking in silence who wished to try first; but they, addressed in such fashion, were quiet at once.