Handless swords and headless shakos flew around him in the air and whithersoever his horse turned its head, an empty space gaped before him, every antagonist retreating before him.
So close was the _melee_ that the soldiers stood in each other's way and could not use their firearms for fear of shooting their comrades.

The lieutenant was the only man who did not avoid him.

Like a true soldier who considers wounds an honour, he did not trouble himself to recollect that his adversary was superior to him both in strength and skill, but strove incessantly to urge his horse towards him.

Twice he struck the fellow but he did not seem to feel the blow.

Once he dealt him a skilful thrust in the side, but the sword bent nearly double without entering his body.