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Then his head, heavy with its musings, drooped upon his breast, and thus fell asleep the last Warden of the Horeszkos. Warlike preparations for the foray—Protazy’s expedition—Robak and the Judge consult on public affairs—Continuation of Protazy’s fruitless expedition—A digression on hemp—Dobrzyn, the hamlet of gentry—Description of the person and the way of life of Maciek Dobrzynski.
“Wind-bag,” yelled the Warden, “I’ll show you now!” And, taking from his belt his iron keys, he whirled them round his head and hurled them with all his might; the bunch of iron flew like a stone from a sling. It would surely have split Protazy’s brow into quarters, but luckily the Apparitor ducked and escaped death. All started from their places.
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