"Look, gentlemen!" cried the count derisively, "look at that old buck-goat who would fain browse in my garden!"
At this, a roar of laughter greeted the discomfited Lothario, and his terror at being caught in forbidden ways now turned into furious rage at being mocked in public. Perceiving his page, to whom he had intrusted his sword when he sat down at table, he beckoned to him, tore the weapon from his hand, and planting himself in front of Hommonai, exclaimed:
"Shame, confusion on you, to entice a nobleman into a trap and ridicule your guest in your own house! But you shall not boast of it to anyone, and the marriage feast which you arranged on my account shall now be turned into a funeral wake. You must fight me, sir!"
Hommonai's only intention had been to make the old libertine a butt and a laughing-stock. He had, therefore, no weapon with him. But when Zurdoki drew his sword and challenged him to single combat, he also called his page, sent him for a rapier, and stood on his defense. The guests in the hall fell back to give the combatants room. Nobody attempted to intervene. It was only right that such an insult should be settled by arms.
First the furious Zurdoki aimed a mighty blow at the count, but miscalculating the length of his saber, the point of his weapon only grazed the yellow, gold-gallooned jack-boots of the count, and then struck the floor. But the blow which Hommonai dealt him in return settled him on the spot, and he breathed forth his filthy soul at the feet of the aggrieved husband.
And everyone present said it served him right. Hommonai ought to have killed him a year ago at least. Then Zurdoki would not have persuaded Prince George Rakoczy to undertake his unlucky campaign, then many good Hungarian warriors would not have fallen into captivity, and Hungary and Transylvania would not have been wasted with fire and sword.
But when the Countess Isabella heard that her husband had killed the old fool, she said:
"What a pity he had but one life! He has only atoned for the blood of my poor Michal. Valentine Kalondai is still unavenged."
They then called the maids, who cleansed the floor with hot water. Meanwhile the host led his guests into the castle gardens, and told them of all the miserable plots in which the evil-minded old libertine had played a part, down to his latest intrigue when he had attempted to seduce the countess. To prove his words he produced the gifts and the will which were to have served as a decoy, and gave them to the Protestant bishop who had celebrated the wedding of the Turkish couple, that he might employ them for the benefit of the College of Sarospatak. Zurdoki had spent not a farthing on church or school, but now his sinful liberality was to be turned to pious uses.
Then they returned to the dancing-room; the fiddles, flutes, and farogatos struck up, and the guests danced over the very spot where Zurdoki's blood had flowed, just as if absolutely nothing had occurred.