Soon, however, more grievous thoughts must have come to his head, for his face grew dark, and he repeated a number of times,— “Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!” And again choking attacked him; a rattling began in his throat more terrible than before. Meanwhile from without came the sound of musketry, at first infrequent, then more frequent; but amidst the drifting of the snow and the howling of the whirlwind they did not sound too loudly, and it might have been thought that that was some continual knocking at the gate. “They are fighting!” said the prince’s physician. “As usual!” answered Kharlamp. “People are freezing in the snow-drifts, and they wish to fight to grow warm.” “This is the sixth day of the whirlwind and the snow,” answered the doctor. “Great changes will come in the kingdom, for this is an unheard of thing.” “God grant it!” said Kharlamp. “It cannot be worse.” Further conversation was interrupted by the prince, to whom a new relief had come. “Kharlamp!” “At the service of your highness!” “Does it seem to me so from weakness, or did Oskyerko try to blow up the gate with a petard two days since?” “He tried, your highness; but the Swedes seized the petards and wounded him slightly, and Sapyeha’s men were repulsed.” “If wounded slightly, then he will try again. But what day is it?” “The last day of December, your highness.” “God be merciful to my soul! I shall not live to the New Year. Long ago it was foretold me that every fifth year death is near me.” “God is kind, your highness.” “God is with Sapyeha,” said the prince, gloomily. All at once he looked around and said: “Cold comes to me from it. I do not see it, but I feel that it is here.” “What is that, your highness?” “Death!” “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!” A moment of silence followed; nothing was heard but the whispered “Our Father,” repeated by Pani Yakimovich. “Tell me,” said the prince, with a broken voice, “do you believe that outside of your faith no one can be saved?” “Even in the moment of death it is possible to renounce errors,” said Kharlamp. The sound of shots had become at that moment more frequent. The thunder of cannon began to shake the windowpanes, which answered each report with a plaintive sound. The prince listened a certain time calmly, then rose slightly on the pillow; his eyes began slowly to widen, his pupils to glitter. He sat up; for a moment he held his head with his hand, then cried suddenly, as if in bewilderment,— “Boguslav! Boguslav! Boguslav!” Kharlamp ran out of the room like a madman. The whole castle trembled and quivered from the thunder of cannon. All at once there was heard the cry of several thousand voices; then something was torn with a ghastly smashing of walls, so that brands and coals from the chimney were scattered on the floor. At the same time Kharlamp rushed into the chamber.