“Terrible frost, Gracious Lord, so that the eyelids are frozen to the eyeballs.”
“But for God’s sake! tell us of the Swedes and not of the frost!” cried the king.
“But what can I say of them, Gracious Lord, when there are none at Chenstohova?” asked he, humorously.
“Those tidings have come to us,” replied the king, “but only from the talk of people, and you have come from the cloister itself. Are you an eyewitness?”
“I am, Gracious Lord, a partner in the defence and an eyewitness of the miracles of the Most Holy Lady.”
“That was not the end of Her grace,” said the king, raising his eyes to heaven, “but let us earn them further.”
“I have seen much in my life,” continued the noble; “but such evident miracles I have not seen, touching which the prior Kordetski writes in detail in this letter.”
Yan Kazimir seized hastily the letter handed him by the noble, and began to read. At times he interrupted the reading to pray, then again turned to the letter. His face changed with joyful feelings; at last he raised his eyes to the noble.
“Father Kordetski writes me,” said he, “that you have lost a great cavalier, a certain Babinich, who blew up the Swedish siege gun with powder?”
“He sacrificed himself for all. But some say he is alive, and God knows what they have said; not being certain, we have not ceased to mourn him, for without his gallant deed it would have been hard for us to defend ourselves.”