Finally Miller himself began to lose hope, and after the bursting of the gun he was simply in despair; a feeling of helplessness and impotence took possession of him. Next morning he called a council, but he called it with the secret wish to hear from officers encouragement to abandon the fortress. They began to assemble, all wearied and gloomy. In silence they took their places around a table in an enormous and cold room, in which the steam from their breaths stood before their faces, and they looked from behind it as from behind a cloud. Each one felt in his soul exhaustion and weariness; each one said to himself: “There is no counsel to give save one, which it is better for no man to be the first to give.” All waited for what Miller would say. He ordered first of all to bring plenty of heated wine, hoping that under the influence of warm drink it would be easier to obtain a real thought from those silent figures, and encouragement to retreat from the fortress. At last, when he supposed that the wine had produced its effect, he spoke in the following words— “Have you noticed, gentlemen, that none of the Polish colonels have come to this council, though I summoned them all?” “It is known of course to your worthiness that servants of the Polish squadron have, while fishing, found silver belonging to the cloister, and that they fought for it with our soldiers. More than ten men have been cut down.” “I know; I succeeded in snatching a part of that silver from their hands, indeed the greater part. It is here now, and I am thinking what to do with it.” “This is surely the cause of the anger of the Polish colonels. They say that if the Poles found the silver, it belongs to the Poles.” “That’s a reason!” cried Count Veyhard. “For my mind, it is a strong reason,” said Sadovski; “and I think that if you had found the silver you would not feel bound to divide it, not only with the Poles, but even with me, a Cheh.” “First of all, my dear sir, I do not share your good will for the enemies of our king,” answered the count, with a frown. “But we, thanks to you, must share with you shame and disgrace, not being able to succeed against a fortress to which you have brought us.” “Then have you lost all hope?” “But have you any yourself to give away?” “Just as if you knew; and I think that these gentlemen share more willingly with me in my hope, than with you in your fear.” “Do you make me a coward, Count Veyhard?” “I do not ascribe to you more courage than you show.” “And I ascribe to you less.” “But I,” said Miller, who for some time had looked on the count with dislike as the instigator of the ill-starred undertaking, “shall have the silver sent to the cloister. Perhaps kindness and graciousness will do more with these surly monks than balls and cannon. Let them understand that we wish to possess the fortress, not their treasures.”