The dragoons returned now through the filled fosse with singing, shouting, and panting, with the odor of blood on them; a number of cannon-shots were fired from the Turkish intrenchments and the castle; then silence followed. Thus ended that artillery battle which lasted some days, and was crowned by the storm of the janissaries.
“Praise be to God,” said the little knight, “there will be rest till the morning kindya at least, and in justice it belongs to us.”
But that was an apparent rest only, for when night was still deeper they heard in the silence the sound of hammers beating the cliff.
“That is worse than artillery,” said Ketling, listening.
“Now would be the time to make a sortie,” said the little knight; “but ’tis impossible; the men are too weary. They have not slept and they have not eaten, though they had food, for there was no time to take it. Besides, there are always some thousands on guard with the miners, so that there may be no opposition from our side. There is no help but to blow up the new castle ourselves, and withdraw to the old one.”
“That is not for to-day,” answered Ketling. “See, the men have fallen like sheaves of grain, and are sleeping a stone sleep. The dragoons have not even wiped their swords.”
“Basia, it is time to go home and sleep,” said the little knight.
“I will, Michael,” answered Basia, obediently; “I will go as you command. But the cloister is closed now; I should prefer to remain and watch over your sleep.”
“It is a wonder to me,” said the little knight, “that after such toil sleep has left me, and I have no wish whatever to rest my head.”
“Because you have roused your blood among the janissaries,” said Zagloba. “It was always so with me; after a battle I could never sleep in any way. But as to Basia, why should she drag herself to a closed gate? Let her remain here till morning.”