Ing the course of the battle, moved and changed places, approaching the combatants, now from behind, now from the front, now from one side, inclining his head meanwhile and looking at the German with ominous gaze through the opening in the iron visor of his helmet, and raising somewhat at moments the bloody point of his sword, as though not noting that he did so.
Weariness began at last to seize Rotgier. He gave two short but fierce blows in succession, directing them against the right arm of Zbyshko. Zbyshko, however, repulsed them so forcibly with his shield that the axe turned in Rotgier's hand and he had to push back suddenly to escape falling, and thenceforth he pushed back continually. At last not only his strength but his patience and coolness of blood were exhausted. From the breasts of the spectators, at sight of his withdrawal, a number of shouts were rent, as if in triumph. These shouts roused in him desperation and anger. The blows of the axes grew more and more frequent. Sweat flowed from the foreheads of both combatants; from between the parted teeth of both the hoarse breath of their breasts escaped. The spectators had ceased to bear themselves calmly, and from moment to moment were heard cries, at one time of men, at another of women: "Strike!" "At him!" "The judgment of God!" "The punishment of God!" "God aid thee!" The prince raised his hand a number of times to enforce silence, but he could not. The noise became louder, children began to cry here and there on the portico, and at last, right at the side of the princess, some young, sobbing voice of a woman called,—
"For Danusia, Zbyshko!"
Zbyshko knew without this reminder that he was there doing battle for Danusia. He was sure that that Knight of the Cross had assisted in stealing her, and that in fighting with him he was fighting to redress the wrong done her. But, as he was young and eager for struggle, in the moment of combat he thought only of combat. All at once that cry brought before him his loss and her suffering. Love, sorrow, and vengeance put fire in his veins. The heart whined in him from suddenly roused pain, and the rage of battle seized him directly. Rotgier could not catch now the terrible blows which were like those of a tempest, nor could he avoid them. Zbyshko struck his shield against the shield of the German with such force that the German's arm was benumbed that in-
vol. i.—25
