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It was quite natural they should think some aid had arrived from the shooting-box, for the bullets whistled just over their heads: so they began to fire back: Fosztó, alarmed, and not understanding this turn of affairs, fled. Old Kandur's hoarse voice could not attract their attention amidst the random firing. He cried furiously: "Don't shoot at one another, you asses!"
Kandur's eyes flashed with the stress of passion, when he saw in his opponent's terrified face that he knew what his intention was. "Well, how do you like the dance, young gentleman? This will be the wedding-dance now! The bridegroom with the bride together into the lime-pit. Come, come with me!
Sárvölgyi's face, in his agony of terror, became like that of a damned soul. That was Kandur's voice! That was Kandur's figure. But so white! Perhaps the naked soul of one on the way to hell? The horrible figure thundered continuously at the door and cried: "Let me in! Give me to drink! I am burning! Bathe me in oil! Help me to undress! I am dying! I am in hell! Help! Drag me out of it!"
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