Car no return meter network

"Long live the great Frederick!" cried the monks by the side of Father Anselmo.

The party of the father guardian rushed upon them with doubled fists; the adversaries followed their example. "Long live Theresa!" cried the one. "Long live Frederick!" cried the other--and the blows and kicks fell thickly right and left, with the most lavish prodigality.

It was in vain that the prior advanced among them and commanded peace--no one regarded him. In their wild and indiscriminate rage they pressed him and shoved him from side to side, and in the heat of the battle several powerful blows fell upon his breast; so the poor prior took refuge again at the door near Cocceji, who was laughing merrily at the wild disorder.

The cries of "Long live Theresa!"

"Long live Frederick!" were mingling lustily in the bloody strife.

The father guardian was enraged beyond bearing, and his flashing eye looked around for some sharp weapon with which to demolish Father Anselmo, who had just exclaimed, "Long live Frederick, the victor of Leuthen and Zorndorf!" He seized a large tin cup, which was near him upon the table, and with a fierce curse he dashed it in the face of Father Anselmo, and the blood burst from his nose. This was the signal for a new order of attack. Both parties rushed to the table to arm themselves; the cups whizzed through the air and wounded severely the heads against which they were well aimed. Here and there might be heard whimperings and piteous complaints, mixed with curses and frantic battle-cries--" Long live Theresa!"

"Long live Frederick!" Some of the warriors crept from the contest into the corners to wipe the blood from their wounds and return with renewed courage to the contest. A few cowards had crept under the table to escape the cups and kicks which were falling in every direction.

Father Anselmo remarked them, and with loud, derisive laughter he pointed them out.