"Beneath the roof of the Kremlin, sire," replied Zabern, with an ironical salute.
The emperor repressed his wrath, and turned again to view the strife.
Every movement of the blades was watched in fear and trembling by the Polish spectators, who felt that it was a fight betwixt liberty and despotism; a mortal thrust on the part of the duke would leave them but a shadow of that freedom which they had enjoyed under the régime of the princess.
Many of the ladies present, unable to endure the sight, averted their eyes, and then, impelled by a dreadful curiosity, turned to gaze again. Some looked on with handkerchiefs pressed to their mouths to check the screams which might have disconcerted the combatants. Intense emotion caused a few to swoon away.
The tide seemed to be turning in favor of Paul. He began to press the duke, whose strength was beginning to fail. Mighty in a first onset, he lacked the steady endurance of his adversary. Suddenly, while bending sideways to avoid a thrust which he had failed to parry, Bora lost his balance and fell. In falling, his sword flew from his hand.
And there he was, resting upon one knee, defenceless, at the mercy of his opponent.
The spirit of chivalry restrained Paul from giving the fatal stroke.
"I cannot slay an unarmed man," he said.
"What folly is this?" cried Zabern, starting up in wrath. "Did he spare Trevisa? Would he spare you if you were now in his place? This is no time for generosity or mercy. The princess's throne is at stake. Strike and spare not."
Bora neither moved nor spoke, awaiting his end in trembling terror. Paul's refusal to strike evoked the long-suppressed feelings of the Poles.