Then a wonderful sign was made manifest. Behold all about them on a sudden was heard the sound of wings, and whole flocks of small winter birds appeared in the court of the fortress, and every moment new ones flew in from the starved country-places around. Birds such as gray larks, ortolans, buntings with yellow breasts, poor sparrows, green titmice, red bulfinches, sat on the slopes of the roofs, on the corners over the doors, on the church; others flew around in a many-colored crown above the head of the prior, flapping their wings, chirping sadly as if begging for alms, and having no fear whatever of man. People present were amazed at the sight; and Kordetski, after he had prayed for a while, said at last,— “See these little birds of the forest. They come to the protection of the Mother of God, but you doubt Her power.” Consolation and hope had entered their hearts; the monks, beating their breasts, went to the church, and the soldiers mounted the walls. Women scattered grain to the birds, which began to pick it up eagerly. All interpreted the visit of these tiny forest-dwellers as a sign of success to themselves, and of evil to the enemy. “Fierce snows must be lying, when these little birds, caring neither for shots nor the thunder of cannon, flock to our buildings,” said the soldiers. “But why do they fly from the Swedes to us?” “Because the meanest creature has the wit to distinguish an enemy from a friend.” “That cannot be,” said another soldier, “for in the Swedish camp are Poles too; but it means that there must be hunger there, and a lack of oats for the horses.” “It means still better,” said a third, “that what they say of the powder is downright falsehood.” “How is that?” asked all, in one voice. “Old people say,” replied the soldier, “that if a house is to fall, the sparrows and swallows having nests in spring under the roof, go away two or three days in advance; every creature has sense to feel danger beforehand. Now if powder were under the cloister, these little birds would not fly to us.” “Is that true?” “As true as Amen to ‘Our Father!’” “Praise to the Most Holy Lady! it will be bad for the Swedes.” At this moment the sound of a trumpet was heard at the northwestern gate; all ran to see who was coming. It was a Swedish trumpeter with a letter from the camp. The monks assembled at once in the council hall. The letter was from Count Veyhard, and announced that if the fortress were not surrendered before the following day it would be hurled into the air. But those who before had fallen under the weight of fear had no faith now in this threat. “Those are vain threats!” said the priests and the nobles together. “Let us write to them not to spare us; let them blow us up!” And in fact they answered in that sense. Meanwhile the soldiers who had gathered around the trumpeter answered his warnings with ridicule. “Good!” said they to him. “Why do you spare us? We will go the sooner to heaven.”