Shouts of delight and triumph were heard in the gallery; heavy oaken tables, benches, iron sockets of torches began to fly now at Yurand. One of the missiles struck him above the brow and covered his face with blood. That moment the door of the main entrance was burst open, and in rushed a crowd of soldiers, summoned through the upper windows; they were armed with darts, halberds, axes, crossbows, pointed stakes, hooks, ropes, or whatever weapon each one had seized in a hurry.
But with his left hand the raging Yurand wiped the blood from his face so that it might not darken his eyesight, collected himself, and rushed at the multitude. Again were heard in the hall groans, the clank of iron, the gritting of teeth, and the terrified voices of men in the midst of slaughter.
