"What do you want?" panted the girl in a choking, scarcely audible voice.
"What do I want?" he hissed in answer. "I want to cut your gander's throat, you goose! Do you want a nightingale?"
Then he whistled a shrill whistle.
His mates leaped out suddenly from their ambush at the sound of the whistle.
At that moment Czipra recovered her self control in sheer despair: she suddenly tore her hand from the robber's grasp, and in three bounds, like a terrified deer, reached the threshold of the door she had left open.
But the wolf had followed in her tracks and reached her at the door. The girl had no time to close it in his face.
"Don't whine!" hissed Kandur, seizing the girl's arm with one hand, with the other attempting to close her mouth.
But terror had made Czipra frantic: tearing down the robber's hand from her mouth, she pushed him back from the door, and with shrill cries awoke the echoes of the night.
"Lorand, help! Robbers!"
"Silence, you dog, or I'll stab you!" thundered the robber, pointing a knife at the girl's breast.