In the afternoon of the following day the thunder of guns drowned again every other sound. All the intrenchments began to smoke simultaneously, the earth trembled in its foundations; as of old there flew on the roof of the church heavy balls, bombs, grenades, and torches fixed in cylinders, pouring a rain of melted lead, and naked torches, knots and ropes. Never had the thunder been so unceasing, never till then had such a river of fire and iron fallen on the cloister; but among the Swedish guns was not that great gun, which alone could crush the wall and make a breach necessary for assault. But the besieged were so accustomed to fire that each man knew what he had to do, and the defence went in its ordinary course without command. Fire was answered with fire, missile with missile, but better aimed, for with more calmness. Toward evening Miller went out to see by the last rays of the setting sun the results; and his glance fell on the tower outlined calmly on the background of the sky. “That cloister will stand for the ages of ages!” cried he, beside himself. “Amen!” answered Zbrojek, quietly. In the evening a council was assembled again at headquarters, still more gloomy than usual. Miller opened it himself. “The storm of to-day,” said he, “has brought no result. Our powder is nearly consumed; half of our men are lost, the rest discouraged: they look for disasters, not victory. We have no supplies; we cannot expect reinforcements.” “But the cloister stands unmoved as on the first day of the siege,” added Sadovski. “What remains for us?” “Disgrace.” “I have received orders,” said the general, “to finish quickly or retreat to Prussia.” “What remains to us?” repeated the Prince of Hesse. All eyes were turned to Count Veyhard, who said: “To save our honor!” A short broken laugh, more like the gnashing of teeth, came from Miller, who was called Poliorcetes. “The Count wishes to teach us how to raise the dead,” said he. Count Veyhard acted as though he had not heard this. “Only the slain have saved their honor,” said Sadovski. Miller began to lose his cool blood. “And that cloister stands there yet, that Yasna Gora, that hen-house! I have not taken it! And we withdraw. Is this a dream, or am I speaking in my senses?” “That cloister stands there yet, that Yasna Gora!” repeated word for word the Prince of Hesse, “and we shall withdraw,—defeated!” A moment of silence followed; it seemed as though the leader and his subordinates found a certain wild pleasure in bringing to mind their shame and defeat. Now Count Veyhard said slowly and emphatically: “It has happened more than once in every war that a besieged fortress has ransomed itself from the besiegers, who then went away as victors; for whoso pays a ransom, by this same recognizes himself as defeated.” The officers, who at first listened to the words of the speaker with scorn and contempt, now began to listen more attentively.