The baroness looked at her daughter, who smiled back in answer; neither appeared the least moved.
The fighting on the stairs had lasted ten seconds perhaps, when the servants came rushing into the room in a body. Their faces were white; their hands shook so that the pistols they carried pointed to twenty different places at once, and I thought it extremely likely that the rioters would be spared the trouble of killing us.
"Put those things down, you scoundrels!" I cried, feeling certain they would be more dangerous to us than to the enemy; and when it was done, I added, "Now, back to the staircase and fight for your mistress, or I will kill every man of you!"
"What cowards!" exclaimed the baroness scornfully. "They will do no good."
"They may form shields for braver men," said her daughter.
Meanwhile, the sounds of the fighting grew more acute, and, knowing how far outnumbered my companions were, I felt compelled to run to their aid.
The servants whom I had driven out were huddled together at the top of the stairs, doing nothing; but, half-way down, Stephen and his two companions were still making a great fight.
Uttering a cry of encouragement, I ran down, and, discharging my pistol into the thick of the crowd, drew my sword.
My brother had received a slight cut across the head; Rakoczy, as yet untouched, was smiling cheerfully, and by his marvellous skill of sword keeping back the most dangerous of the assailants.
Franz's right arm was hanging by his side useless; but he swung his club with the left, and smiled grimly when a man dropped.