“If your grace wants dancing, then dance with me.”
Kulvyets-Hippocentaurus blinked, and began to move his mustaches convulsively. “I prefer a girl,” said he; “I can attend to you afterward.”
Meanwhile Ranitski ran up with face already spotted, for he sniffed a quarrel. “Who are you, road-blocker?” asked he, grasping his sabre.
Uhlik stopped playing, and Kokosinski shouted, “Hei, comrades! together, together!”
But the Butryms were already behind Yuzva; sturdy old men and great youths began to assemble, growling like bears.
“What do you want? Are you looking for bruises?” asked Kokosinski.
“No talk! Be off out of here!” said Yuzva, stolidly.
Then Ranitski, whose interest it was that an hour should not pass without a fight, struck Yuzva with the hilt of his sword in the breast, so that it was heard in the whole room, and cried, “Strike!”
Rapiers glittered; the scream of women was heard, the clatter of sabres, uproar and disturbance. Then the gigantic Yuzva pushed out of the crowd, took a roughly hewn bench from beside a table, and raising it as though it were a light strip of wood, shouted, “Make way! make way!”
Dust rose from the floor and hid the combatants; but in the confusion groans were soon heard.