“I. For the might of God all things are possible, even his safe return,” said Kordetski.
Zamoyski was silent. Charnyetski began to pant from emotion.
“Let us pray,” said the prior.
The three knelt down and began to pray. But anxiety raised the hair on the heads of both knights. A quarter of an hour passed, half an hour, an hour as long as a lifetime.
“There will be nothing now!” said Charnyetski, sighing deeply.
All at once in the distance a gigantic column of flame burst forth, and a roar as if all the thunders of heaven had been hurled to the earth; it shook the walls, the church, and the cloister.
“He has burst it, he has burst it!” shouted Charnyetski.
New explosions interrupted further speech of his.
Kordetski threw himself on his knees, and raising his hands, cried to heaven, “Most Holy Mother, Guardian, Patroness, bring him back safely!”
A noise was made on the walls. The garrison, not knowing what had happened, seized their arms. The monks rushed from their cells. No one was sleeping. Even women sprang forth. Questions and answers crossed one another like lightnings.