"Are they fighting inside, or what?" cried Miller; "I don't understand."
"I will explain to your worthiness," said Zbrojek; "this is Saint Stephen's Day, and the name's day of the Zamoyskis, father and son; the firing is in their honor."
With that shouts of applause were heard from the fortress, and after them new salvos.
"They have powder enough," said Miller, gloomily. "That is for us a new indication."
But fate did not spare him another very painful lesson.
The Swedish soldiers were so discouraged and fallen in spirit that at the sound of firing from the fortress the detachments guarding the nearest intrenchments deserted them in panic.
Miller saw one whole regiment, the musketeers of Smaland, taking refuge in disorder at his own quarters ; he heard too how the officers repeated among themselves at this sight, —
"It is time, it is time, it is time to retreat!
But by degrees everything grew calm; one crushing impression remained. The leader, and after him the subordinates, entered the room and waited, waited impatiently; even the face of Count Veyhard, till then motionless, betrayed disquiet.
At last the clatter of spurs was heard in the antechamber, and the trumpeter entered, all red from cold, his mustaches covered with his frozen breath.
"An answer from the cloister!" said he, giving a large packet wound up in a colored handkerchief bound with a string.
Miller's hands trembled somewhat, and he chose to cut the string with a dagger rather than to open it slowly. A number of pairs of eyes were fixed on the packet; the officers were breathless. The general unwound one roll of the cloth, a second, and a third, unwound with increasing haste till at last a package of wafers fell out on the table. Then he grew pale, and though no one asked what was in the package, he said: "Wafers!"
"Nothing more?" asked some one in the crowd.
"Nothing more!" answered the general, like an echo.
A moment of silence followed, broken only by panting; at times too was heard the gritting of teeth, at times the rattling of rapiers.
"Count Veyhard!" said Miller, at last, with a terrible and ill-omened voice.
