The Deluge. Vol. 2. Генрик Сенкевич
more and more; at last he turned and cried, —
"The shots do not injure the church one whit!" And anger, unrestrained, mad, seized the old warrior. He hurled the glass to the earth, and it broke into pieces. "I shall go wild from this music!" roared he.
At that moment De Fossis, the engineer, galloped up. "General," said he, "it is impossible to make a mine. Under a layer of earth lies rock. There miners are needed."
Miller used an oath. But he had not finished the imprecation when another officer came with a rush from the Chenstohova entrenchment, and saluting, said, —
"Our largest gun has burst. Shall we bring others from Lgota?"
Fire had slackened somewhat; the music was heard with more and more solemnity. Miller rode off to his quarters without saying a word. But he gave no orders to slacken the struggle; he determined to worry the besieged. They had in the fortress barely two hundred men as garrison; he had continual relays of fresh soldiers.
Night came, the guns thundered unceasingly; but the cloister guns answered actively, – more actively indeed than during the day, for the Swedish camp-fires showed them ready work. More than once it happened that soldiers had barely sat around the fire and the kettle hanging over it, when a ball from the cloister flew to them out of the darkness, like an angel of death. The fire was scattered to splinters and sparks, the soldiers ran apart with unearthly cries, and either sought refuge with other comrades, or wandered through the night, chilled, hungry, and frightened.
About midnight the fire from the cloister increased to such force that within reach of a cannon not a stick could be kindled. The besieged seemed to speak in the language of cannons the following words: "You wish to wear us out, – try it! We challenge you!"
One o'clock struck, and two. A fine rain began to fall in the form of cold mist, but piercing, and in places thickened as if into pillars, columns and bridges seeming red from the light of the fire. Through these fantastic arcades and pillars were seen at times the threatening outlines of the cloister, which changed before the eye; at one time it seemed higher than usual, then again it fell away as if in an abyss. From the trenches to its walls stretched as it were ill-omened arches and corridors formed of darkness and mist, and through those corridors flew balls bearing death; at times all the air above the cloister seemed clear as if illumined by a lightning flash; the walls, the lofty works, and the towers were all outlined in brightness, then again they were quenched. The soldiers looked before them with superstitious and gloomy dread. Time after time one pushed another and whispered, —
"Hast seen it? This cloister appears and vanishes in turn. That is a power not human."
"I saw something better than that," answered the other. "We were aiming with that gun that burst, when in a moment the whole fortress began to jump and quiver, as if some one were raising and lowering it. Fire at such a fortress; hit it!"
The soldier then threw aside the cannon brush, and after a while added, —
"We can win nothing here! We shall never smell their treasures. Brr, it is cold! Have you the tar-bucket there? Set fire to it; we can even warm our hands."
One of the soldiers started to light the tar by means of a sulphured thread. He ignited the sulphur first, then began to let it down slowly.
"Put out that light!" sounded the voice of an officer. But almost the same instant was heard the noise of a ball; then a short cry, and the light was put out.
The night brought the Swedes heavy losses. A multitude of men perished at the camp-fires; in places regiments fell into such disorder that they could not form line before morning. The besieged, as if wishing to show that they needed no sleep, fired with increasing rapidity.
The dawn lighted tired faces on the walls, pale, sleepless, but enlivened by feverishness. Kordetski had lain in the form of a cross in the church all night; with daylight he appeared on the walls, and his pleasant voice was heard at the cannon, in the curtains, and near the gates.
"God is forming the day, my children," said he. "Blessed be His light. There is no damage in the church, none in the buildings. The fire is put out, no one has lost his life. Pan Mosinski, a fiery ball fell under the cradle of your little child, and was quenched, causing no harm. Give thanks to the Most Holy Lady; repay her."
"May Her name be blessed," said Mosinski; "I serve as I can."
The prior went farther.
It had become bright day when he stood near Charnyetski and Kmita. He did not see Kmita; for he had crawled to the other side to examine the woodwork, which a Swedish ball had harmed somewhat. The prior asked straightway, —
"But where is Babinich? Is he not sleeping?"
"I, sleep in such a night as this!" answered Pan Andrei, climbing up on the wall. "I should have no conscience. Better watch as an orderly of the Most Holy Lady."
"Better, better, faithful servant!" answered Kordetski.
Pan Andrei saw at that moment a faint Swedish light gleaming, and immediately he cried, —
"Fire, there, fire! Aim! higher! at the dog-brothers!"
Kordetski smiled, seeing such zeal, and returned to the cloister to send to the wearied men a drink made of beer with pieces of cheese broken in it.
Half an hour later appeared women, priests, and old men of the church, bringing steaming pots and jugs. The soldiers seized these with alacrity, and soon was heard along all the walls eager drinking. They praised the drink, saying, —
"We are not forgotten in the service of the Most Holy Lady. We have good food."
"It is worse for the Swedes," added others. "It was hard for them to cook food the past night; it will be worse the night coming."
"They have enough, the dog-faiths. They will surely give themselves and us rest during the day. Their poor guns must be hoarse by this time from roaring continually."
But the soldiers were mistaken, for the day was not to bring rest When, in the morning, officers coming with the reports informed Miller that the result of the night's cannonading was nothing, that in fact the night had brought the Swedes a considerable loss in men, the general was stubborn and gave command to continue cannonading. "They will grow tired at last," said he to the Prince of Hesse.
"This is an immense outlay of powder," answered that officer.
"But they burn powder too?"
"They must have endless supplies of saltpetre and sulphur, and we shall give them charcoal ourselves, if we are able to burn even one booth. In the night I went near the walls, and in spite of the thunder, I heard a mill clearly, that must be a powder-mill."
"I will give orders to cannonade as fiercely as yesterday, till sunset. We will rest for the night. We shall see if an embassy does not come out."
"Your worthiness knows that they have sent one to Wittemberg?"
"I know; I will send too for the largest cannons. If it is impossible to frighten the monks or to raise a fire inside the fortress, we must make a breach."
"I hope, your worthiness, that the field-marshal will approve the siege."
"The field-marshal knows of my intention, and he has said nothing," replied Miller, dryly. "If failure pursues me still farther, the field-marshal will give censure instead of approval, and will not fail to lay all the blame at my door. The king will say he is right, – I know that. I have suffered not a little from the field-marshal's sullen humor, just as if 'tis my fault that he, as the Italians state, is consumed by mal francese."
"That they will throw the blame on you I doubt not, especially when it appears that Sadovich is right."
"How right? Sadovich speaks for those monks as if he were hired by them. What does he say?"
"He says that these shots will be heard through the whole country, from the Carpathians to the Baltic."
"Let the king command in such case to tear the skin from Count Veyhard and send it as an offering to the cloister; for he it is who instigated to this siege."
Here Miller seized his head.
"But