Some of them, already blinded, writhed in agony on the ground and dipped their faces in the cool puddles formed by the flowing beer.

Old Onucz had not a hair of his head left, but for all that he was still sitting on a heap of ducats, which were rolling in every direction out of the half charred sacks.

His scorched hands he dug down deep among his ducats, and thought, perhaps, that they would assuage his pangs.
Both of Juon Tare's eyes had been burnt out by an explosion of gunpowder, and two of the soldiers had also received serious injuries.
Only after the general terror had subsided a little, did it occur to someone that now that the fire had been brought under, Fatia Negra might be pursued.

This someone was the bride.
It was she who seized a new torch, it was she who cried to the soldiers: "After me!" and was the first to tear open the door of the smelting-furnace.

Within was darkness.