A panic came over them, and now they sat terror-struck, motionless with dread. “Ah!” someone said in a terrified whisper, “we were speaking of the Evil One—and perhaps we have called him up—and he may even now be on the watch for one of us!” “Jesu Maria!” they exclaimed in horror. “Just take a look outside, boys, will you? ’Tis but the dogs playing about in the snow.” “Oh, but I saw him too plain through the window—his head as big as a barrel, and eyes like burning coals!” “Ye saw not well,” said Roch, and, seeing that no one cared to go into the yard, he went himself to calm them. “I will tell you a tale about the Blessed Virgin,” he said on his return, “and all your fancies will vanish away.” He seated himself in his former place; his coolness somewhat quieted them. “It was long, long ago, ages ago; so long ago that the tale is found only in very ancient books. In a certain village, hard by Cracow, there dwelt a free peasant, Casimir by name, and surnamed ‘the Hawk.’ His family, a good one, had dwelt there from all time, and he tilled many a thirty-five-acre piece of land. He had a forest of his own, a dwelling like a manor, and water-mill close to the river. Our Lord had blessed him, and all went well with him; his barns were always full of corn as his money-box was of money; his children were blooming, his wife was without reproach, and he himself a wise and kindly man, not proud of heart, and just towards everyone. “He ruled like a father in the assembly, always for justice, anxious to be upright in all things, and ever the first to help and save his neighbours. “So he lived, soberly, quietly and happily, as one having the Lord God at his fireside. “Now one day the King sent to call the nation to war against the Paynim. “The Hawk was sorely troubled at heart, for he had no wish to leave his home and go out to the wars. “But then, there was the King’s messenger standing at the door, and calling him to hasten. “It was a very great war. The Turks, a vile brood! had entered Poland, burning villages, robbing churches, slaying priests, and putting the people to death, or driving them, bound with cords, to their own country of infidels. “To fight them was a duty. If, to defend his home and kin, men and country, a man shall willingly lay down his life, he is sure of eternal salvation. “So he called the assembly, selected the stoutest and bravest men he could find; and on the morrow, after Holy Mass, all set out, some on horseback, others in chariots. “The whole village went with him, with tears and great lamentations, as far as the statue of Our Lady of Chenstohova, which stands by the road, at the crossway. “He fought for a year, for two years ... but at last no news of him came any more.