Just then a half-childish and as if ardently longing voice began to sing: "Had I the dear little wings Of a gosling, I would fly To Jasiek at Szlonsk." Jurand wished to reply, to utter the dear name, but his words were imprisoned in his throat, as if an iron band squeezed them. A sudden wave of pain, tears, longing, suffering, collected in his breast; he therefore cast himself down with his face in the snow and began in ecstasy to call upon heaven in his soul, as if in thankful prayer: "O Jesus! I hear my child once again! O Jesus!" ... And weeping began to tear his gigantic body. Above, the longing voice continued to sing amid the undisturbed silence of the night: "Would that I might sit In the little Szlonsk garden To gaze upon little Jasiek The poor orphan!" In the morning a stout, bearded German retainer began to prod the ribs of the knight lying at the gate. "Upon your feet, dog!... The gate is open, and the count orders you to appear before him." Jurand awoke, as if from sleep. He did not catch the man by the throat, he did not crush him in his iron hands, he had a quiet and almost humble face; he arose, and, without saying a word, followed the soldier through the gate. He had hardly crossed, when a clang of chains was heard, and the bridge began to be drawn up again, while in the gateway itself fell a heavy iron grating. END OF PART FOURTH. PART FIFTH. CHAPTER I. Jurand, finding himself in the castleyard, did not know at first where to go, because the servant, who had led him through the gate, had left him and gone toward the stables. It is true, the soldiers stood near the palisades, either singly or in groups, but their faces were so insolent, and their looks so derisive, that the knight could easily guess that they would not show him the way, and even if they were to make a reply to his question, it would be a brutal or an indignant one. Some laughed, pointing at him with their fingers, others commenced to throw snow at him, like yesterday. But he, noticing a door larger than the others, over which was cut out in stone Christ on a cross, turned to it, thinking that if the count and the elders were in another part of the castle or in other rooms, somebody must set him right. And so it happened. The instant Jurand approached that particular door, both halves of it opened suddenly, and there stood before it a youth with a head shaven like the clericals, but dressed in a worldly dress, who inquired: "Are you Sir Jurand of Spychow?" "I am." "The pious count ordered me to guide you. Follow me." And he commenced to lead him through a great vaulted vestibule toward a staircase. At the stairs though he halted, and casting a glance at Jurand, again inquired: "But have you no weapon with you? I was ordered to search you." Jurand threw up his arms, so that his guide might be able to view his whole figure, and replied: "Yesterday I gave up everything."