"Thy will be done on earth, as it is done in Heaven. Amen!"
Lady Regina faithfully repeated these words after the monk.
The night's silence sealed this terrible oath, which, with iron fetters, chained the coming generations to the hesitating decision of a girl of sixteen.
While this passed, the troops of stormers assembled in the outworks. A number of volunteers had obtained permission to join them. All relied upon victory.
Among the volunteers appeared Lieutenant Bertel.
"Thunder and lightning! is that you, Bertel?" exclaimed Lieutenant Larsson.
"As you see," said the youth, shaking his hand cordially.
"Well, I declare, the good boy wishes to sport his new commission. There's not a single drop left in my flask. But say, why have you changed your name, Bertel? What sort of a mixture is it? neither Swedish or Finnish."
"It was done at Breitenfeld," said Bertel, slightly blushing. "The comrades have long called me so, and—it is shorter."
"Well, I hope you are not too proud to bear a peasant's name, now you are an officer?"