Page:Henryk Sienkiewicz - Potop - The Deluge (1898 translation by Jeremiah Curtin) - Vol 1.djvu/612

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582
THE DELUGE.

would see only a pile of balls and bombs in place of the cloister. A cloud of lime, struck from the walls by the cannon, rose up, and mingling with the smoke, hid the light. Priests went out with relics to exorcise these clouds, lest they might hinder defence. The thunders of cannon were interrupted, but were as frequent as the breath gulps of a panting dragon.

Suddenly on a tower, newly built after a lire of the previous year, trumpets began to sound forth the glorious music of a church hymn. That music flowed down through the air and was heard round about, was heard everywhere, as far as the batteries of the Swedes. The sound of the trumpets was accompanied by the voices of people, and amidst the bellowing and whistling, amidst the shouts, the rattle and thunder of muskets, were heard the words, —

"Mother of God, Virgin,
Glorified by God Mary!"

Here a number of bombs burst; the cracking of rafters and beams, and then the shout: "Water !" struck the ear, and again the song flowed on in calmness.

"From Thy Son the Lord
Send down to us, win for us,
A time of bread, a time of plenty."

Kmita, who was standing on the wall at the cannon, opposite the village of Chenstohova, in which Miller's quarters were, and whence the greatest fire came, pushed away a less accurate cannoneer to begin work himself ; and worked so well that soon, though it was in November and the day cold, he threw off his fox-skin coat, threw off his vest, and toiled in his trousers and shirt.

The hearts grew in people unacquainted with war, at sight of this soldier blood and bone, to whom all that was passing — that bellowing of cannon, those flocks of balls, that destruction and death — seemed as ordinary an element as fire to a salamander.

His brow was wrinkled, there was fire in his eyes, a flush on his cheeks, and a species of wild joy in his face. Every moment he bent to the cannon, altogether occupied with the aiming, altogether given to the battle, thinking of naught else; he aimed, lowered, raised, at last cried, "Fire!" and when Soroka touched the match, he ran to the opening and called out from time to time, —