"The boy is tired to death; he fell asleep under the very sound of the hammers," said Zagloba. But in his soul he thought: "Oh, sweet innocence, thou art able to sleep amidst pikes and knives! It is clear that angels of heaven are guarding thee, and me in thy company."
He roused her, and they went on toward the village, which lay at some distance. The night was calm and quiet; the echo of the striking hammers followed them. The old peasant went ahead to show the way in the darkness; and Zagloba, pretending to say his prayers, muttered in a monotone,--
"O God, have mercy on us, sinners--Do you see, Princess--O Holy Most Pure--what would have happened to us without this peasant disguise?--As it is on earth, so in heaven--We shall get something to eat, and to-morrow ride to Zólotonosha instead of going on foot--Amen, amen, amen!--Bogun may come upon our tracks, for our tracks will not deceive him; but it will be late, for we shall cross the Dnieper at Próhorovka--Amen!--May black death choke them, may the hangman light their way! Do you hear, Princess, how they are howling at the forge?--Amen!--Terrible times have come on us, but I am a fool if I don't rescue you even if we have to flee to Warsaw itself."
"What are you muttering there, brother?" asked the peasant.
"Oh, nothing! I am praying for your health. Amen, amen!"
"Here is my cottage."
"Glory be to God!"
"For the ages of ages!"
"I beg you to eat my bread and salt."
"God will reward you."