The Deluge. Vol. 2. Генрик Сенкевич

began to puff and blow out his anger through his nostrils. After a time he grew calm, and passing his eyes over those present as if encouraging them with a glance, he said, —

      "I ask your pardon, gentlemen, but my anger is not strange. I will not mention those places which, when I had taken command after Torstenson, I captured, for I do not wish, in view of the present disaster, to boast of past fortune. All that is done at this fortress simply passes reason. But still it is necessary to take counsel. For that purpose I have summoned you. Deliberate, then, and what the majority of us determine at this council will be done."

      "Let your worthiness give us the subject for deliberation," said the Prince of Hesse. "Have we to deliberate only concerning the capture of the fortress, or also concerning this, whether it is better to withdraw?"

      Miller did not wish to put the question so clearly, or at least he did not wish the "either – or," to come first from his mouth; therefore he said, —

      "Let each speak clearly what he thinks. It should be a question for us of the profit and praise of the king."

      But none of the officers wished more than Miller to appear first with the proposition to retreat, therefore there was silence again.

      "Pan Sadovski," said Miller after a while, in a voice which he tried to make agreeable and kind, "you say what you think more sincerely than others, for your reputation insures you against all suspicion."

      "I think, General," answered the colonel, "that Kmita was one of the greatest soldiers of this age, and that our position is desperate."

      "But you were in favor of withdrawing from the fortress?"

      "With permission of your worthiness, I was only in favor of not beginning the siege. That is a thing quite different."

      "Then what do you advise now?"

      "Now I give the floor to Count Veyhard."

      Miller swore like a pagan.

      "Count Veyhard will answer for this unfortunate affair," said he.

      "My counsels have not all been carried out," answered the count, insolently. "I can boldly cast responsibility from myself. There were men who with a wonderful, in truth an inexplicable, good-will for the priests, dissuaded his worthiness from all severe measures. My advice was to hang those envoy priests, and I am convinced that if this had been done terror would have opened to us before this time the gates of that hen-house."

      Here the count looked at Sadovski; but before the latter had answered, the Prince of Hesse interfered: "Count, do not call that fortress a hen-house, for the more you decrease its importance the more you increase our shame."

      "Nevertheless I advised to hang the envoys. Terror and always terror, that is what I repeated from morning till night; but Pan Sadovski threatened resignation, and the priests went unharmed."

      "Go, Count, to-day to the fortress," answered Sadovski, "blow up with powder their greatest gun as Kmita did ours, and I guarantee that, that will spread more terror than a murderous execution of envoys."

      The count turned directly to Miller: "Your worthiness I thought we had come here for counsel and not for amusement."

      "Have you an answer to baseless reproaches?" asked Miller.

      "I have, in spite of the joyousness of these gentlemen, who might save their humor for better times."

      "Oh, son of Laertes, famous for stratagems!" exclaimed the Prince of Hesse.

      "Gentlemen," answered the count, "it is universally known that not Minerva but Mars is your guardian deity; but since Mars has not favored you, and you have renounced your right of speech, let me speak."

      "The mountain is beginning to groan, and soon we shall see the small tail of a mouse," said Sadovski.

      "I ask for silence!" said Miller, severely. "Speak, Count, but keep in mind that up to this moment your counsels have given bitter fruit."

      "Which, though it is winter, we must eat like mouldy biscuits," put in the Prince of Hesse.

      "This explains why your princely highness drinks so much wine," said Count Veyhard; "and though it does not take the place of native wit, it helps you to a happy digestion of even disgrace. But no matter! I know well that there is a party in the fortress which is long desirous of surrender, and that only our weakness on one side and the superhuman stubbornness of the prior on the other keep it in check. New terror will give this party new power; for this purpose we should show that we make no account of the loss of the gun, and storm the more vigorously."

      "Is that all?"

      "Even if it were all, I think that such counsel is more in accordance with the honor of Swedish soldiers than barren jests at cups, or than sleeping after drinking-bouts. But that is not all. We should spread the report among our soldiers, and especially among the Poles, that the men at work now making a mine have discovered the old underground passage leading to the cloister and the church."

      "That is good counsel," said Miller.

      "When this report is spread among the soldiers and the Poles, the Poles themselves will persuade the monks to surrender, for it is a question with them as with the monks, that that nest of superstitions should remain intact."

      "For a Catholic that is not bad!" muttered Sadovski.

      "If he served the Turks he would call Rome a nest of superstitions," said the Prince of Hesse.

      "Then, beyond doubt, the Poles will send envoys to the priests," continued Count Veyhard, – "that party in the cloister, which is long anxious for surrender will renew its efforts under the influence of fear; and who knows but its members will force the prior and the stubborn to open the gates?"

      "The city of Priam will perish through the cunning of the divine son of Laertes," declaimed the Prince of Hesse.

      "As God lives, a real Trojan history, and he thinks he has invented something new!" said Sadovski.

      But the advice pleased Miller, for in very truth it was not bad. The party which the count spoke of existed really in the cloister. Even some priests of weaker soul belonged to it. Besides, fear might extend among the garrison, including even those who so far were ready to defend it to the last drop of blood.

      "Let us try, let us try!" said Miller, who like a drowning man seized every plank, and from despair passed easily to hope. "But will Kuklinovski or Zbrojek agree to go again as envoys to the cloister, or will they believe in that passage, and will they inform the priests of it?"

      "In every case Kuklinovski will agree," answered the count; "but it is better that he should believe really in the existence of the passage."

      At that moment they heard the tramp of a horse in front of the quarters.

      "There, Pan Zbrojek has come!" said the Prince of Hesse, looking through the window.

      A moment later spurs rattled, and Zbrojek entered, or rather rushed into the room. His face was pale, excited, and before the officers could ask the cause of his excitement the colonel cried, —

      "Kuklinovski is no longer living!"

      "How? What do you say? What has happened?" exclaimed Miller.

      "Let me catch breath," said Zbrojek, "for what I have seen passes imagination."

      "Talk more quickly. Has he been murdered?" cried all.

      "By Kmita," answered Zbrojek.

      The officers all sprang from their seats, and began to look at Zbrojek as at a madman; and he, while blowing in quick succession bunches of steam from his nostrils, said, —

      "If I had not seen I should not have believed, for that is not a human power. Kuklinovski is not living, three soldiers are killed, and of Kmita not a trace. I know that he was a terrible man. His reputation is known in the whole country. But for him, a prisoner and bound, not only to free himself, but to kill the soldiers and torture Kuklinovski to death, – that a man could not do, only a devil!"

      "Nothing like that has ever happened; that's impossible of belief!" whispered Sadovski.

      "That Kmita has shown what he can