“At the service of your highness!”
“Does it seem to me so from weakness, or did Oskyerko try to blow up the gate with a petard two days since?”
“He tried, your highness; but the Swedes seized the petards and wounded him slightly, and Sapyeha’s men were repulsed.”
“If wounded slightly, then he will try again. But what day is it?”
“The last day of December, your highness.”
“God be merciful to my soul! I shall not live to the New Year. Long ago it was foretold me that every fifth year death is near me.”
“God is kind, your highness.”
“God is with Sapyeha,” said the prince, gloomily.
All at once he looked around and said: “Cold comes to me from it. I do not see it, but I feel that it is here.”
“What is that, your highness?”