“Nothing is silver, nothing is gold to me now,
Nothing is fortune.
Let me die at the fence, then, of hunger,
If only near thee.”
But after a certain time that movement began to decrease, and at last stopped completely. A silence set in which was broken only by the distant sound of the hammers breaking the cliffs, and the calls of the sentries on the walls. That silence, the moonlight, and the night full of beauty delighted Pan Michael and Basia. A yearning came upon them, it is unknown why, and a certain sadness, though pleasant. Basia raised her eyes to her husband; and seeing that his eyes were open, she said—
“Michael, you are not sleeping.”
“It is a wonder, but I cannot sleep.”
“It is pleasant for you here?”
“Pleasant. But for you?”
Basia nodded her bright head. “Oh, Michael, so pleasant! ai, ai! Did you not hear what that man was singing?”
Here she repeated the last words of the little song—
“Let me die at the fence, then, of hunger,
If only near thee.”
A moment of silence followed, which the little knight interrupted—
“But listen, Basia.”
“What, Michael?”
“To tell the truth, we are wonderfully happy with each other; and I think if one of us were to fall, the other would grieve beyond measure.”
Basia understood perfectly that when the little knight said “if one of us were to fall,” instead of die, he had himself only in mind. It came to her head that maybe he did not expect to come out of that siege alive, that he wished to accustom her to that termination; therefore a dreadful presentiment pressed her heart, and clasping her hands, she said—
“Michael, have pity on yourself and on me!”
The voice of the little knight was moved somewhat, though calm.
“But see, Basia, you are not right,” said he; “for if you only reason the matter out, what is this temporal existence? Why break one’s neck over it? Who would be satisfied with tasting happiness and love here when all breaks like a dry twig—who?”
But Basia began to tremble from weeping, and to repeat—
“I will not hear this! I will not! I will not!”
“As God is dear to me, you are not right,” repeated the little knight. “Look, think of it: there above, beyond that quiet moon, is a country of bliss without end. Of such a one speak to me. Whoever reaches that meadow will draw breath for the first time, as if after a long journey, and will feed in peace. When my time comes—and that is a soldier’s affair—it is your simple duty to say to yourself: ‘That is nothing! Michael is gone. True, he is gone far, farther than from here to Lithuania; but that is nothing, for I shall follow him.’ Basia, be quiet; do not weep. The one who goes first will prepare quarters for the other; that is the whole matter.”
Here there came on him, as it were, a vision of coming events; for he raised his eyes to the moonlight, and continued—
“What is this mortal life? Grant that I am there first, waiting till someone knocks at the heavenly gate. Saint Peter opens it. I look; who is that? My Basia! Save us! Oh, I shall jump then! Oh, I shall cry then! Dear God, words fail me. And there will be no tears, only endless rejoicing; and there will be no Pagans, nor cannon, nor mines under walls, only peace and happiness. Ai, Basia, remember, this life is nothing!”
“Michael, Michael!” repeated Basia.
And again came silence, broken only by the distant, monotonous sound of the hammers.
“Basia, let us pray together,” said Pan Michael, at last.
And those two souls began to pray. As they prayed, peace came on both; and then sleep overcame them, and they slumbered till the first dawn.
Pan Michael conducted Basia away before the morning kindya to the bridge joining the old castle with the town. In parting, he said—
“This life is nothing! remember that, Basia.”
LVI
The thunder of cannon shook the castles and the town immediately after the kindya. The Turks had dug a fosse at the side of the castle, five hundred yards long; in one place, at the very wall, they were digging deeply. From that fosse there went against the walls an unceasing fire from janissary muskets. The besieged made screens of leather bags filled with wool; but as long balls and bombs were hurled continually from the intrenchments, bodies fell thickly around the cannon. At one gun a bomb killed six men of Volodyovski’s infantry at once; at other guns men were falling continually. Before evening the leaders saw that they could hold out no longer, especially as the mines might be exploded any moment. In the night, therefore, the captains led out their companies, and before morning they had transferred, amid unbroken firing, all the guns, powder, and supplies of provisions to the old castle. That, being built on a rock, could hold out longer, and there was special difficulty in digging under it. Pan Michael, when consulted on this matter at the council, declared that if no one would negotiate, he was ready to defend it a year. His words went to the town, and poured great consolation into hearts, for people knew that the little knight would keep his word even at the cost of his life.
At the evacuation of the new castle, strong mines were put under both bulwarks and the front. These exploded with great noise about noon, but caused no
