War was declared, and the rumor spread throughout the town, and everywhere excited a kind of timorous curiosity.
Directly Olga reached her home she shut herself up and barricaded the door. The Ispravnik, on his side, prepared for the attack. He mustered a band of policemen, with some poniatye, or citizen-witnesses, and sent them to the enemy’s house.
Finding the entrance closed and the door barricaded, the valorous army began to knock energetically, and ordered the inmate to open.
“I will not open the door,” replied the voice of Olga within.
“Open, in the name of the law.”
“I will not open the door. Break it in! I will defend myself.”
At this explicit declaration the band became perplexed. A council of war was held. “We must break open the door,” they all said. But as all these valiant folks had families, wives, and children whom they did not wish to leave orphans, no one cared to face the bullets of this mad woman, whom they knew to be capable of anything. Each urged his neighbor onward, but no one cared to go forward himself.
Recourse was had to diplomacy.
“Open the door, Miss.”
No reply.
“Please to open the door, or you will repent it.”
“I will not open the door,” replied the firm voice of the besieged.
What was to be done? A messenger was sent to the Ispravnik to inform him that Olga Liubatovitch had shut herself up in her house, had pointed a pistol at them, and had threatened to blow out the brains of the first who entered.
The Ispravnik, considering that the task of leadership would fall to him as supreme chief (and he also had a family), did not care to undertake the perilous enterprise. His army, seeing itself thus abandoned by its leader, was in dismay; it lost courage; demoralization set in, and after a few more diplomatic attempts, which led to nothing, it beat a disgraceful retreat. A select corps of observation remained, however, near the enemy’s citadel, entrenched behind the hedges of the adjoining kitchen-gardens. It was hoped that the enemy, elated by the victory in this first encounter, would make a sortie, and then would be easily taken, in flank and rear, surrounded, and defeated.
But the enemy displayed as much prudence as firmness. Perceiving the manœuvres of her adversaries, Olga divined their object, and did not issue from the house all that day, or the day after, or even on the third day. The house was provided with provisions and water, and Olga was evidently prepared to sustain a long siege.
It was clear that, if no one would risk his life; which naturally no one was disposed to risk, nothing could be done save to reduce her by hunger. But who, in
