Meanwhile the abbot raised his hand and pointing toward the youth, began to shout: "What is the matter with him? I know what is the matter; he has not the heart of a nobleman, nor of a knight, but of a hare! That is the matter with him; he is afraid of Cztan and Wilk!"
But Zbyszko, who had remained cool and calm, carelessly shrugged his shoulders and answered: "Owa! I broke their heads when I was in Krzesnia."
"For heaven's sake!" exclaimed Macko.
The abbot stared for a while at Zbyszko. Anger was struggling with admiration in him, and his reason told him that from that fight, he might derive some benefit for his plans.
Therefore having become cooler, he shouted to Zbyszko: "Why didn't you tell us that before?"
"Because I was ashamed. I thought they would challenge me, as it is customary for knights to do, to fight on horseback or on foot; but they are bandits, not knights. Wilk first took a board from the table, Cztan seized another and they both rushed against me! What could I do? I seized a bench; well--you know!"
"Are they still alive?" asked Macko.
"Yes, they are alive, but they were hurt. They breathed when I left."
The abbot, rubbing his forehead, listened; then he suddenly jumped from the chest, on which he had seated himself to be more comfortable and to think the matter over, and exclaimed: "Wait! I want to tell you something!"
"What?" asked Zbyszko.
"If you fought for Jagienka and injured them for her sake, then you are really her knight, not Danusia's; and you must take Jagienka."
Having said this, he put his hands on his hips and looked at Zbyszko triumphantly; but Zbyszko smiled and said: "Hej! I knew very well why you wanted me to fight with them; but you have not succeeded in your plans."
"Why? Speak!"
"Because I challenged them to deny that Danusia Jurandowna is the prettiest and the most virtuous girl in the world; they took Jagienka's part, and that is why there was a fight."
Having heard this, the abbot stood amazed, and only the frequent movement of his eyes indicated that he was still alive. Finally he turned, opened the door with his foot, and rushed into the other room; there he seized the curved stick from the pilgrim's hands and began to strike the shpilmen with it, roaring like a wounded urus.
"To horse, you rascals! To horse, you dog-faiths! I will not put my foot in this house again! To horse, he who believes in God, to horse!"