“As God is dear to me, he is not even trying to go in silence! Do you hear steps crushing the snow?” “Most Holy Lady, guard thy servant!” said the prior. Both listened carefully for a time, till the brisk steps and the noise on the snow had ceased. “Do you know, your reverence, at moments I think that he will succeed, and I fear nothing for him. The strange man went as if he were going to an inn to drink a glass of liquor. What courage he has in him! Either he will lay down his head untimely, or he will be hetman. H’m! if I did not know him as a servant of Mary, I should think that he has—God give him success, God grant it to him! for such another cavalier there is not in the Commonwealth.” “It is so dark, so dark!” said Kordetski; “but they are on their guard since the night of your sortie. He might come upon a whole rank before he could see it.” “I do not think so. The infantry are watching, that I know, and watch carefully; but they are in the intrenchment, not before the muzzles of their own cannon. If they do not hear the steps, he can easily push under the intrenchment, and then the height of it alone will cover him—Uf!” Here Charnyetski puffed and ceased speaking; for his heart began to beat like a hammer from expectation and alarm, and breath failed him. Kordetski made the sign of the cross in the darkness. A third person stood near the two. This was Zamoyski. “What is the matter?” asked he. “Babinich has gone to blow up the siege gun.” “How is that? What is that?” “He took a roll of powder, cord, and flint, and went.” Zamoyski pressed his head between his hands. “Jesus, Mary! Jesus, Mary! All alone?” “All alone.” “Who let him go? That’s an impossible deed!” “I. For the might of God all things are possible, even his safe return,” said Kordetski. Zamoyski was silent. Charnyetski began to pant from emotion. “Let us pray,” said the prior. The three knelt down and began to pray. But anxiety raised the hair on the heads of both knights. A quarter of an hour passed, half an hour, an hour as long as a lifetime. “There will be nothing now!” said Charnyetski, sighing deeply. All at once in the distance a gigantic column of flame burst forth, and a roar as if all the thunders of heaven had been hurled to the earth; it shook the walls, the church, and the cloister. “He has burst it, he has burst it!” shouted Charnyetski. New explosions interrupted further speech of his. Kordetski threw himself on his knees, and raising his hands, cried to heaven, “Most Holy Mother, Guardian, Patroness, bring him back safely!” A noise was made on the walls. The garrison, not knowing what had happened, seized their arms. The monks rushed from their cells. No one was sleeping. Even women sprang forth. Questions and answers crossed one another like lightnings. “What has happened?” “An assault!” “The Swedish gun has burst!” cried one of the cannoneers. “A miracle, a miracle!” “The largest gun is burst!” “That great one!”