“But what should we do?”
“We should take the guns, and with them all that is movable, and transfer them to the old castle; for the old one is founded on rocks that the Turks cannot blow up with mines. I have thought always that the new castle would serve merely for the first resistance; after that we must blow it up with powder, and the real defence will begin in the old one.”
A moment of silence followed; and the starosta bent his anxious head again.
“But if we have to withdraw from the old castle, where shall we go?” asked he, with a broken voice.
At that, the little knight straightened himself, and pointed with his finger to the earth: “I shall go there.”
At that moment the guns roared again, and a whole flock of bombs began to fly to the castle; but as darkness was in the world, they could be seen perfectly. Pan Michael took leave of the general, and went along the walls. Going from one battery to another, he encouraged men everywhere, gave advice; at last, meeting with Ketling, he said,—
“Well, how is it?”
Ketling smiled pleasantly.
“It is clear as day from the bombs,” said he, pressing the little knight’s hand. “They do not spare fire on us.”
“A good gun of theirs burst. Did you burst it?”