Next morning, before the sun had scattered its golden rays over the
sky, a new protecting rampart encircled the Polish camp. The old
ramparts included too much space. Defence and the giving of mutual
assistance were difficult within them. The Prince and Pan Pshiyemski,
in view of this, decided to enclose the troops within narrower
intrenchments. They worked vigorously, the hussars as well as all the
other regiments, and the camp-servants. Only at three o'clock in the
morning did sleep close the eyes of the wearied knights, but at that
hour all save the guards were sleeping like stones. The enemy labored
also, and then was quiet for a long time, after the recent defeat. No
assault was looked for that day.
Skshetuski, Pan Longin, and Zagloba sat in their tent drinking beer,
thickened with bits of cheese, and talked of the labors of the past
night with that satisfaction peculiar to soldiers after victory.
"It is my habit to lie down about the evening milking, and rise with
the dawn, as did the ancients," said Zagloba, "but in war it is
difficult! You sleep when you can, and you rise when they wake you. I
am vexed that we must incommode ourselves for such rubbish; but it
cannot be helped, such are the times. We paid them well yesterday; if
they get such a feast a couple of times more, they won't want to wake
us."
"Do you know whether many of ours have fallen?" asked Podbipienta.
"Oh, not many; more of the assailants always fall. You are not so
experienced in this as I am, for you have not been through so many
wars. We old soldiers have no need to count bodies; we can estimate the
number from the battle itself."
"I shall learn from you, gentlemen," said Pan Longin, with amiability.
"Yes, if you have wit enough; but I haven't much hope of that."
"Oh, give us peace!" said Skshetuski. "This is not Podbipienta's first
war. God grant the foremost knights to act as he did yesterday."
"I did what I could," said the Lithuanian, "not what I wanted."
"Still your action was not bad," said Zagloba, patronizingly; "and that
others surpassed you [here he began to curl his mustaches] is not your
fault."
The Lithuanian listened with downcast eyes and sighed, thinking of his
ancestor Stoveiko and the three heads.
At that moment the tent door opened and Pan Michael entered quickly,
glad as a goldfinch on a bright morning.
"Well, we are here," said Zagloba; "give him some beer."
The little knight pressed the hands of his three comrades, and said:
"You should see how many balls are lying on the square; it passes
imagination! You can't pass without hitting one."
"I saw that too," said Zagloba, "for when I rose I walked a little
through the camp. All the hens in the province of Lvoff won't lay so
many eggs in two years. Oh, I only wish they were eggs! Then we should
have them fried; and you must know, gentlemen, that I consider a plate
of fried eggs the greatest delicacy. I am a born soldier, and so are
you. I eat willingly what is good, if there is only enough of it. On
this account too I am more eager for battle than the pampered
youngsters of to-day who can't eat anything unusual without getting the
gripes."
"But you scored a success yesterday with Burlai," said Volodyovski. "To
cut down Burlai in that fashion! As I live I did not expect that of
you, and he was a warrior famous throughout the Ukraine and Turkey."
"Pretty good work, wasn't it?" asked Zagloba, with satisfaction. "It's
not my first, it's not my first, Pan Michael. I see we were all looking
for poppyseed in the bottom of the bushel; but we have found four, and
such another four you could not find in the whole Commonwealth. If I
should go with you, gentlemen, and with our prince at the head, we
could reach even Stamboul! Just think! Skshetuski killed Burdabut, and
yesterday Tugai Bey."
"Tugai Bey is not killed," interrupted the colonel. "I felt that the
sabre was turning in my hand; then they separated us."
"All one; don't interrupt me, Pan Yan! Pan Michael cut up Bogun at
Warsaw, as we have said--"
"It is better not to mention that," interrupted the Lithuanian.
"What is said is said," answered Zagloba, "though I should prefer not
to mention it. But I go further: Here is Pan Podbipienta from
Myshekishki, who finished Pulyan, and I Burlai. I will not hide from
you, however, that I would give all these for Burlai alone; and this
perhaps because I had terrible work with him. He was a devil, not a
Cossack. If I had sons like him legitimately born, I should leave them
a splendid name. I am only curious to know what his Majesty the King
and the Diet will say when they reward us,--who live more on brimstone
and saltpetre than anything else."
"There was a knight greater than all of us," said Pan Longin; "and no
one knows his name or mentions it."
"I should like to know who he was,--one of the ancients?" asked
Zagloba, offended.
"No; he was that man, brother, who at Tshtsiana brought the king
Gustavus Adolphus to the ground with his horse, and took him prisoner."
"I heard it was at Putsek," interrupted Volodyovski.
"But the king tore away from him, and escaped," said Skshetuski.
"He did," said Zagloba, closing his eyes. "I know something about
that matter, for I was then under Konyetspolski, father of the
standard-bearer. Modesty did not permit that knight to mention his own
name, therefore no one knows it; and believe me, Gustavus Adolphus was
a great warrior,--almost equal to Burlai; but in the hand-to-hand
conflict with Burlai I had heavier work. It is I who tell you this."
"That means that you overthrew Gustavus Adolphus?" said Volodyovski.
"Have I boasted of it, Pan Michael? Then let it remain unremembered. I
have something to boast of to-day; no need of bringing up old times!
This horrid beer rattles terribly in the stomach, and the more cheese
there is in it the worse it rattles. I prefer wine, though God be
praised for what we have! Soon perhaps we shall not have even the beer.
The priest Jabkovski tells me that we are likely to have short rations;
and he is all the more troubled, for he has a belly as big as a barn.
He is a rare Bernardine, with whom I have fallen desperately in love.
There is more of the soldier than the monk in him. If he should hit a
man on the snout, then you might order his coffin on the spot."
"But," said Volodyovski, "I have not told you how handsomely the priest
Yaskolski acted last night. He fixed himself in that corner of the
tower at the right side of the castle, and looked at the fight. You
must know that he is a wonderfully good shot. Said he to Jabkovski: 'I
won't shoot Cossacks, for they are Christians after all, though their
deeds are disgusting to the Lord; but Tartars,' said he, 'I cannot
stand;' and so he peppered away at the Tartars, and he spoiled about a
score and a half of them during the battle."
"I wish all priests were like him," sighed Zagloba; "but our
Mukhovetski only raises his hands to heaven and weeps because so much
Christian blood is flowing."
"But give us peace," said Skshetuski, earnestly. "Mukhovetski is a holy
man, and you have the best proof of it in this, that though he is not
the senior of these two, they bow down before his worthiness."
"Not only do I not deny his holiness," retorted Zagloba, "but I suppose
he would be able to convert the Khan himself. Oh, gentlemen, his
Majesty the Khan must be so mad that the lice on him are standing on
their heads from fright. If we have negotiations with the Khan, I will
go with the commissioners. The Khan and I are old acquaintances. Once
he took a great fancy to me. Perhaps he will remember me now."
"They will surely choose Yanitski to negotiate," said Skshetuski, "for
he speaks Tartar as well as Polish."
"And so do I. The murzas and I are as well acquainted as white-faced
horses. They wanted to give me their daughters when I was in the Crimea
so as to have beautiful grandchildren, as I was young in those days,
and had made no _pacta conventa_ with my innocence like Podbipienta. I
played many a prank."
"Ah, it is disgusting to hear him!" said Pan Longin, dropping his eyes.
"And you repeat the same thing like a trained starling. It is clear
that the Botvinians are not well acquainted with human speech yet."
Further conversation was interrupted by a noise beyond the tent. The
knights went out therefore to see what was going on. A multitude of
soldiers were on the ramparts looking at the place round about, which
during the night had changed considerably and was still changing before
their eyes. The Cossacks had not been idle since the last assault; they
had made a breastwork and placed cannon in it, longer and carrying
farther than any in the Polish camp; they had begun traverses, zigzags,
and approaches. From a distance these embankments looked like thousands
of gigantic mole-hills; the whole slope of the field was covered with
them; the freshly dug earth lay black everywhere in the grass, and
every place was swarming with men at work. The red caps of the Cossacks
were glittering on the front ramparts.
The prince stood on the works with Sobieski and Pshiyemski. A little
below, Firlei was surveying the Cossack works through a field-glass,
and said to Ostrorog,--
"The enemy are beginning a regular siege. I see we must abandon defence
in the trenches and go to the castle."
Prince Yeremi heard these words, and said, bending from above to the
castellan: "God keep us from that, for we should be going of our own
choice into a trap. Here is the place for us to live or die."
"That's my opinion too, even if I had to kill a Burlai every day," put
in Zagloba. "I protest in the name of the whole army against the
opinion of the castellan of Belsk."
"This matter does not pertain to you!" said the prince.
"Quiet!" whispered Volodyovski, jerking him by the sleeve.
"We will exterminate them in those hiding-places like so many moles,"
said Zagloba, "and I beg your serene Highness to let me go out with the
first sally. They know me already, and they will know me better."
"With a sally!" said the prince, and wrinkled his brow. "Wait a minute!
The nights are dark in the beginning now." Here he turned to Sobieski,
Pshiyemski, and the commanders, and said: "I ask you, gentlemen, to
come to counsel."
He left the intrenchment, and all the officers followed him.
"For the love of God, what are you doing?" asked Volodyovski, "What
does this mean? Why, you don't know service and discipline, that you
interfere in the conversation of your superiors. The prince is a
mild-mannered man, but in time of war there is no joking with him."
"Oh, that is nothing, Pan Michael! Konyetspolski, the father, was a
fierce lion, and he depended greatly on my counsels; and may the wolves
eat me up to-day, if it was not for that reason that he defeated
Gustavus Adolphus twice. I know how to talk with magnates. Didn't you
see now how the prince was astonished when I advised him to make a
sally? If God gives a victory, whose service will it be,--whose? Will
it be yours?"
At that moment Zatsvilikhovski came up. "What's this? They are rooting
and rooting, like so many pigs!" said he, pointing to the field.
"I wish they were pigs," said Zagloba. "Pork sausage would be cheap,
but their carrion is not fit for dogs. Today the soldiers had to dig a
well in Firlei's quarters, for the water in the eastern pond was
spoiled from the bodies. Toward morning the bile burst in the
dog-brothers, and they all floated. Now next Friday we cannot use fish,
because the fish have eaten their flesh."
"True," said Zatsvilikhovski; "I am an old soldier, but I have not seen
so many bodies, unless at Khotím, at the assault of the janissaries on
our camp."
"You will see more of them yet, I tell you."
"I think that this evening, or before evening, they will move to the
storm again."
"But I say they will leave us in peace till to-morrow."
Scarcely had Zagloba finished speaking, when long white puffs of smoke
blossomed out on the breastwork, and balls flew over the intrenchment.
"There!" exclaimed Zatsvilikhovski.
"Oh, they know nothing of military art!" said Zagloba.
Old Zatsvilikhovski was right. Hmelnitski had began a regular siege. He
had closed all roads and escapes, had taken away the pasture, made
approaches and breastworks, had dug zigzags near the camp, but had not
abandoned assaults. He had resolved to give no rest to the besieged; to
harass, to frighten, to keep them in continual sleeplessness, and press
upon them till their arms should fall from their stiffened hands. In
the evening, therefore, he struck upon the quarters of Vishnyevetski,
with no better result than the day before, especially since the
Cossacks did not advance with such alacrity. Next day firing did not
cease for an instant. The zigzags were already so near that musketry
fire reached the ramparts; the earthworks smoked like little volcanoes
from morning till evening. It was not a general battle, but a continual
fusillade. The besieged rushed out sometimes from the ramparts; then
sabres, flails, scythes, and lances met in the conflict. But scarcely
had a few Cossacks fallen in the ranks, when the gaps were immediately
filled with new men. The soldiers had no rest for even a moment during
the whole day; and when the desired sunset came, a new general assault
was begun. A sally was not to be thought of.
On the night of the 16th of July two valiant colonels--Gladki and
Nebaba--struck upon the quarters of the prince, and suffered a terrible
defeat. Three thousand of the best Cossacks lay on the field; the rest,
pursued by Sobieski, escaped to the tabor, throwing down their arms and
powder-horns. An equally unfortunate result met Fedorenko, who, taking
advantage of the thick fog, barely failed to capture the town at
daybreak. Pan Korf repulsed him at the head of the Germans; then
Sobieski and Konyetspolski cut the fugitives almost to pieces.
But this was nothing in comparison with the awful attack of July 19. On
the previous night the Cossacks had raised in front of Vishnyevetski's
quarters a lofty embankment, from which guns of large calibre vomited
an uninterrupted fire. When the day had closed, and the first stars
were in the sky, tens of thousands of men rushed to the attack. At the
same time appeared some scores of terrible machines, like towers, which
rolled slowly to the intrenchment. At their sides rose bridges, like
monstrous wings, which were to be thrown over the ditches; and their
tops were smoking, blazing, and roaring with discharges of small
cannon, guns, and muskets. These towers moved on among the swarm of
heads like giant commanders,--now reddening in the fire of guns, now
disappearing in smoke and darkness.
The soldiers pointed them out to one another from a distance,
whispering: "Those are the 'travelling towers.' We are the men that
Hmelnitski is going to grind with those windmills."
"See how they roll, with a noise like thunder!"
"At them from the cannon! At them from the cannon!" cried some.
In fact the prince's gunners sent ball after ball, bomb after bomb, at
those terrible machines; but since they were visible only when the
discharges lighted the darkness, the balls missed them most of the
time.
Meanwhile the dense mass of Cossacks drew nearer and nearer, like a
black wave flowing in the night from the distant expanse of the sea.
"Uf!" said Zagloba, in the cavalry near Skshetuski, "I am hot as never
before in my life. The night is so sultry that there is not a dry
thread on me. The devils invented those machines. God grant the
ground to open under them, for those ruffians are like a bone in my
throat,--amen! We can neither eat nor sleep. Dogs are in a better
condition of life than we. Uf! how hot!"
It was really oppressive and sultry; besides, the air was saturated
with exhalations from bodies decaying for several days over the whole
field. The sky was covered with a black and low veil of clouds. A storm
or tempest was hanging over Zbaraj. Sweat covered the bodies of
soldiers under arms, and their breasts were panting from exertion. At
that moment drums began to grumble in the darkness.
"They will attack immediately," said Skshetuski. "Do you hear the
drum?"
"Yes. I wish the devils would drum them! It is pure desperation!"
"Cut! cut!" roared the crowds, rushing to the ramparts.
The battle raged along the whole length of the rampart. They struck at
the same time on Vishnyevetski, Lantskoronski, Firlei, and Ostrorog, so
that one could not give aid to the other. The Cossacks, excited with
gorailka, went still more ragingly than during the previous assaults,
but they met a still more valiant resistance. The heroic spirit of
their leader gave life to the soldiers. The terrible quarter infantry,
formed of Mazovians, fought with the Cossacks, so that they became
thoroughly intermingled with them. They fought with gun-stocks, fists,
and teeth. Under the blows of the stubborn Mazovians several hundred of
the splendid Zaporojian infantry fell. The battle grew more and more
desperate along the whole line. The musket-barrels burned the hands of
the soldiers; breath failed them; the voices of the commanders died in
their throats from shouting. Sobieski and Skshetuski fell with their
cavalry upon the Cossack flank, trampling whole regiments.
Hour followed hour, but the assault relaxed not; for Hmelnitski filled
the great gaps of the Cossack ranks, in the twinkle of an eye, with new
men. The Tartars increased the uproar, at the same time sending clouds
of arrows on the defending soldiers; men from behind drove the mob to
the assault with clubs and rawhide whips. Rage contended with rage,
breast struck breast, man closed with man in the grip of death. They
struggled, as the raging waves of the sea struggle with an island
cliff.
Suddenly the earth trembled; the whole heavens were in blue flames, as
if God could no longer witness the horrors of men. An awful crash
silenced the shouts of combatants and the roar of cannon. The artillery
of heaven then began its more awful discharges. Thunders rolled on
every side, from the east to the west. It seemed as though the sky had
burst, together with the cloud, and was rolling on to the heads of the
combatants. At moments the whole world seemed like one flame; at
moments all were blind in the darkness, and again ruddy zigzags of
lightning rent the black veil. A whirlwind struck once and again, tore
away thousands of caps, streamers, and flags, and swept them in the
twinkle of an eye over the battle-field. Thunders began to roll, one
after another; then followed a chaos of peals, flashes, whirlwind,
fire, and darkness; the heavens were as mad as the men.
The unheard-of tempest raged over the town, the castle, the trenches,
and the tabor. The battle was stopped. At last the flood-gates of
heaven were open, and not streams, but rivers of rain poured down upon
the earth. The deluge hid the light; nothing could be seen a step in
advance. Bodies were swimming in the ditch. The Cossack regiments,
abandoning the assault, fled one after the other to the tabor; going at
random, they stumbled against one another, and thinking that the enemy
was pursuing, scattered in the darkness; guns and ammunition wagons
followed them, sticking and getting overturned on the way. Water washed
down the Cossack earthworks, roared in the ditches and zigzags, filled
the covered places, though provided with ditches, and ran roaring over
the plain as if pursuing the Cossacks.
The rain increased every moment. The infantry in the trenches left the
ramparts, seeking shelter under the tents. But for the cavalry of
Sobieski and Skshetuski there came no order to withdraw; they stood one
by the other as if in a lake, and shook the water from their shoulders.
The tempest began gradually to slacken. After midnight the rain stopped
entirely. Through the rents in the clouds here and there the stars
glittered. Still an hour passed, and the water had fallen a little.
Then before Skshetuski's squadron appeared the prince himself
unexpectedly.
"Gentlemen," inquired he, "your pouches are not wet?"
"Dry, serene prince!" answered Skshetuski.
"That's right! dismount for me, advance through the water to those
machines, put powder to them and fire them. Go quietly! Sobieski will
go with you."
"According to orders!" replied Skshetuski.
The prince now caught sight of the drenched Zagloba. "You asked to go
out on a sally; go now with these," said he.
"Ah, devil, here is an overcoat for you!" muttered Zagloba. "This is
all that was wanting."
Half an hour later, two divisions of knights, two hundred and fifty
men, wading to their waists in the water with sabres in hand, hastened
to those terrible moving towers of the Cossacks, standing about half a
furlong from the trench. One division was led by that "lion of lions,"
Marek Sobieski, starosta of Krasnostav, who would not hear of remaining
in the trench; the other by Skshetuski. Attendants followed the knights
with buckets of tar, torches, and powder. They went as quietly as
wolves stealing in the dark night to a sheepfold.
Volodyovski went, as a volunteer with Skshetuski, for Pan Michael loved
such expeditions more than life. He tripped along through the water,
joy in his heart and sabre in hand. At his side was Podbipienta, with
his drawn sword, conspicuous above all, for he was two heads higher
than the tallest. Among them Zagloba pushed on panting, while he
muttered with vexation and imitated the words of the prince,--
"'You asked to go on a sally; go now with these.' All right! A dog
wouldn't go to a wedding through such water as this. If ever I advise a
sally in such weather may I never drink anything but water while I
live! I am not a duck, and my belly isn't a boat. I have always held
water in horror, and what kind of water is this in which peasant
carrion is steeping?"
"Quiet!" said Volodyovski.
"Quiet yourself! You are not bigger than a gudgeon, and you know how to
swim, it is easy for you. I say even that it is unhandsome on the part
of the prince to give me no peace. After the killing of Burlai, Zagloba
has done enough; let every one do as much, and let Zagloba have peace,
for you will be a pretty-looking crowd when he is gone. For God's sake,
if I fall into a hole, pull me out by the ears, for I shall fill with
water at once."
"Quiet!" said Skshetuski. "The Cossacks are sitting in those dark
shelters; they will hear you."
"Where? What do you tell me?"
"There in those hillocks, under the sods."
"That is all that was wanting! May the bright lightning smash--"
Volodyovski stopped the remaining words by putting his hand on
Zagloba's mouth, for the shelters were barely fifty yards distant. The
knights went silently indeed, but the water spattered under their feet;
happily rain began to fall again, and the patter deadened the noise of
their steps.
The guards were not at the shelters. Who could have expected a sally
after an assault in such a tempest, when the combatants were divided by
something like a lake?
Volodyovski and Pan Longin sprang ahead and reached the shelter first.
Volodyovski let his sabre drop, put his hand to his mouth and began to
cry: "Hei, men!"
"What?" answered from within the voices of Cossacks, evidently
convinced that some one from the Cossack tabor was coming.
"Glory to God!" answered Volodyovski; "let us in!"
"Don't you know the way?"
"I do," replied Volodyovski, and feeling for the entrance he jumped in.
Podbipienta, with a few others, rushed after him.
At that moment the interior of the shelter resounded with the terrified
shout of men; at the same instant the knights rushed with a shout to
the other shelter. In the darkness were heard groans and clash of
steel; here and there some dark figures rushed past, others fell on the
ground, then came the report of a shot; but all did not last longer
than a quarter of an hour. The Cossacks, surprised for the most part
while in a deep sleep, did not even defend themselves, and were
destroyed before they could seize their weapons.
"To the marching towers! to the marching towers!" cried Sobieski.
They hurried to the towers.
"Fire them from within, for they are wet outside!" shouted Skshetuski.
But the command was not easy of execution. In these towers built of
pine planks there was neither door nor opening. The Cossack gunners
mounted them on ladders. The guns, since only those of the smaller
calibre could be carried, were drawn up with ropes. The knights
therefore ran around the towers some time yet, cutting the planks in
vain with their sabres or grasping with their hands on corners.
Happily the attendants had axes; they began to cut. Sobieski ordered
them to place boxes underneath with powder, prepared on purpose. The
buckets with tar, as well as the torches were lighted; and flame began
to lick the planks, wet outside but full of pitch within.
Before, however, the planks had caught fire or the powder had exploded,
Pan Longin bent down and raised an enormous stone, dug out of the
ground by the Cossacks. Four of the strongest men could not move it
from its place; but he raised it, and only through the light of the
tar-buckets could it be seen that the blood came to his face. The
knights grew dumb with amazement.
"He is a Hercules! May the bullets strike him!" cried they, raising
their hands.
Pan Longin approached the still unkindled machine, bent and hurled the
stone at the very centre of the wall.
Those present bent their heads, so loud was the whistle of the stone.
The mortises were broken by the blow; a rattle was heard all around;
the tower twisted as if broken in two, and fell with a crash. The pile
of timber was covered with pitch and fired in a moment.
Soon gigantic flames illuminated the whole plain. Rain fell
continually; but the fire was too strong, and those moving towers were
burning, to the astonishment of both armies, since the night was so
wet.
Stepka, Kulak, and Mrozovetski hurried from the Cossack tabor with
several thousand men, to quench the fire. Pillars of flame and red
smoke shot up toward the sky, with power increasing each moment, and
were reflected in the lakes and ponds formed by the tempest on the
battle-field.
The knights began to return in serried ranks to the rampart. They were
greeted even at that distance with shouts of joy. Suddenly Skshetuski
looked around, cast his eyes into the heart of the company, and called
with a thundering voice: "Halt!"
Pan Longin and the little knight were not among the returning. It was
evident that, carried away by ardor, they had remained too long at the
last tower, and perhaps found Cossacks hidden somewhere; it was enough
that, seemingly, they had not noticed the retreat.
"Return!" commanded Skshetuski.
Sobieski, at the other end of the line, did not know what had happened
and ran to inquire. At that moment the two knights showed themselves as
if they had risen out of the earth, half-way between the towers and the
other knights. Pan Longin with his gleaming broadsword strode with
gigantic steps, and at his side ran Pan Michael on a trot. Both had
their heads turned to the Cossacks, who were chasing them like a pack
of dogs. By the red light of the flames the whole pursuit was perfectly
visible. One would have said that an enormous elk with her young was
retreating before a crowd of hunters ready to hurl herself at any
moment on the enemy.
"They will be killed! By the mercy of God, forward!" cried Zagloba, in
a heart-rending voice; "they will be shot with arrows or muskets! By
the wounds of Christ, forward!" And not considering that a new battle
might begin in a moment he flew, sabre in hand, with Skshetuski and
others, to the succor; he thrust, twisted, sprang up, panted, cried,
was shaking all over, and rushed on with what legs and breath remained
to him.
The Cossacks, however, did not fire, for their muskets were wet, and
the strings of their bows damp; they only pressed on. Some had pushed
to the front and were about to run up, when both knights at bay turned
to them and giving an awful shout, raised their sabres on high. The
Cossacks halted. Pan Longin, with his immense sword, seemed to them
some supernatural being.
As two tawny wolves pressed overmuch by hounds turn and show their
white teeth, and the dogs whining at a distance do not dare to rush on,
so these turned repeatedly, and each time their pursuers halted. Once
only a man, evidently of bolder nature, ran up to them with a scythe in
his hand; but Pan Michael sprang at him like a wildcat and bit him to
death. The rest waited for their comrades, who were coming on the run
in a dense body.
But the line of Cossacks came nearer and nearer, and Zagloba flew with
his sabre over his head, shouting with an unearthly voice: "Kill!
slay!"
Then there was a report from the bulwarks, and a bomb screaming like a
screech-owl described a red arc in the sky and fell in the dense crowd;
after it a second, a third, a tenth. It seemed that battle would begin
anew. Till the siege of Zbaraj, projectiles of that kind were unknown
to the Cossacks, and when sober they feared them terribly, seeing in
them the sorcery of Yeremi. The crowd therefore stopped for a moment,
then broke in two; the bombs burst, scattering death and destruction.
"Save yourselves! save yourselves!" was shouted in tones of terror.
All fled. Pan Longin and Volodyovski dropped into the saving ranks of
the hussars. Zagloba threw himself on the neck of one and the other,
and kissed them on the cheeks and eyes. Joy was choking him; but he
restrained it, not wishing to show the softness of his heart, and
cried,--
"Oh, the ox-drivers! I won't say that I love you, but I was alarmed
about you! Is that the way you understand service, to lag in the rear?
You ought to be dragged behind horses over the square by your feet. I
shall be the first to tell the prince, that he may think of a
punishment for you. Now we'll go to sleep. Thank God for that too!
Those dog-brothers were lucky to run away before the bombs, for I
should have cut them up like cabbage. I prefer fighting to seeing my
friends die. We must have a drink to-night. Thank God for that too! I
thought we should have to sing the requiem over you to-morrow. But I am
sorry there was no fight, for my hand is itching awfully, though I gave
them beans and onions in the shelters."