of the city knew it, and Germans inhabiting from remote times Polish cities and towns knew its force. Old Matsko grew weak from emotion at that sight, the knights, pushing back the crossbowmen promptly, surrounded Zbyshko and Danusia; the people were moved, and in their delight cried with still louder voices: "To the castellan! to the castellan!" The crowd rose suddenly like gigantic waves of the sea. The executioner and his assistants fled with all haste from the scaffold. There was a disturbance, for it had become clear to everyone that if the castellan wished to oppose the sacred custom a terrible uproar would rise in the city. In fact a column of people rushed at the scaffold. In the twinkle of an eye they dragged off the cloth and tore it to pieces, then the planks and beams, pulled away with strong hands, or cut with axes, bent, cracked, broke—and a few Our Fathers later there was no trace of the scaffold on that square.
Zbyshko, holding Danusia in his arms, returned to the castle, but this time as a real conquering triumphator; for around him, with joyful faces, advanced the first knights of the kingdom, at the sides, in front, and behind, crowded thousands of men, women, and children, crying in heaven-piercing voices, singing, stretching out their hands to Danusia and glorifying the courage and the beauty of both. From the windows the white hands of ladies clapped applause to them; everywhere were visible eyes filled with tears of rapture. A shower of garlands of roses and lilies, a shower of ribbons, and even of gold belts and knots fell at the feet of the happy youth, and he, radiant as the sun, his heart filled with gratitude, raised aloft his white little lady from moment to moment; sometimes he kissed her knees with delight, and that sight melted young maidens to the degree that some threw themselves into the arms of their lovers, declaring that should these lovers incur death they would be freed in like manner.
Zbyshko and Danusia had become, as it were, the beloved children of knights, of citizens, and of the great multitude. Old Matsko, whom Floryan and Martsin supported on either side, almost went out of his mind from delight,—and from astonishment also, that such a means of saving his nephew had not even occurred to him.
In the general uproar Povala of Tachev told the knights in his powerful voice how Yastrembets and Stanislav of Skarbirnir, skilled in written and customary law, had in-
