"Do they not torture her?" asked Zbyszko, in hollow tones.
"I will tell your lordship the candid truth, that I did not hear any beating or crying; the only thing I heard proceeding from the litter was sad melodies; sometimes it seemed to me like sweet, sad warblings of a bird…."
"That is terrible," exclaimed Zbyszko, his voice hissing between his set teeth.
But Macko interrupted further questioning.
"That is enough," he said. "Speak now of the battle. Did you see how they departed and what became of them?"
"I saw and will give a faithful account. At first they fought terribly. But when they saw that they were surrounded on all sides, then only they thought of escape. Sir Arnold, who is quite a giant, was the first to break the ring, and opened such a road, that he, the old comthur and some people with the horse-litter succeeded in passing through it."
"How is it that they were not pursued?"
"They were pursued, but nothing could be done, because when they came too near them, then Sir Arnold faced the pursuers and fought them all. God protect those who meet him, because he possesses such extraordinary strength; he considers it a trifle to fight against a hundred. Thrice he thus turned, thrice he kept the pursuers in check. All the people who were with him perished. It seems to me that he too was wounded, and so was his horse, but he escaped, and meanwhile the old comthur succeeded in making good his escape."
When Macko heard the story he thought that Sanderus was telling the truth, for he recollected that when he entered the field where Skirwoilla had given battle, the whole stretch of the road on the line of the Germans' retreat, was covered with dead Zmudzians, so terribly hacked as though it had been done by giant hands.
"Nevertheless, how could you observe all that?" he asked Sanderus.