Thus did they converse with swelling hearts, and then went to rest, for they were greatly wearied. But the little knight had not slept three hours when Lusnia roused him.
“Pan Commandant,” said the sergeant, “we have news.”
“What is it?” cried the watchful soldier, springing up in one moment.
“Pan Mushalski is here.”
“For God’s sake! what do you tell me?”
“He is here. I was standing at the breach, and heard some one calling from the other side in Polish, ‘Do not fire; it is I.’ I looked; there was Pan Mushalski coming back dressed as a janissary.”
“Praise be to God!” said the little knight; and he sprang up to greet the bowman.
It was dawning already. Pan Mushalski was standing outside the wall in a white cap and armor, so much like a real janissary that one’s eyes were slow in belief. Seeing the little knight, he hurried to him, and began to greet him joyously.
“We have mourned over you already!” cried Volodyovski.
With that a number of other officers ran up, among them Ketling. All were amazed beyond description, and interrupted one another asking how he came to be in Turkish disguise.