For a time the howling of the wind was heard and the shaking of the window-panes.
"Where are the bodies of the comtur and Brother Gottfried?" asked the old man.
"In the chapel; the priests there are singing a litany over them."
"Are they in the coffins already?"
"In the coffins, but the comtur's head is covered, for his face and skull are broken."
"Where are the other bodies?—and the wounded?"
"The bodies are on the snow, so as to stiffen before the coffins are finished. The wounded are cared for in the hospital."
Siegfried joined his hands above his head a second time.
"And one man did all this! O God, have the Order in Thy care when it comes to a general war with this wolfish race!"
At these words Rotgier cast a glance upward as if recalling something, and said,—
"At Vilno I heard the Voit of Sambia say to his brother the Grand Master: 'Unless thou raise a great war and destroy them so that their name be not left—woe to us and our people.'"
"God give such a war and grant a meeting with them!" said one of the noble novices.
Siegfried looked at him fixedly, as if wishing to say: "Thou couldst have met one to-day," but seeing the slender and youthful figure of the novice, and remembering, perhaps, that he himself, though renowned for courage, would not court sure destruction, he omitted to reproach him, and only asked,—
"Has any of you seen Yurand?"
"I have," answered De Bergov.
"Is he alive?"
"Alive, but lying in the net in which they entangled him. When he regained consciousness the soldiers wished to finish him, but the chaplain would not permit."
"It is not permissible to kill him. He is a man of consideration among his own people, and there would be a terrible outcry," answered Siegfried. "It will be impossible too to conceal what has happened, for there were too many spectators."
"What are we to say then, and what must we do?" inquired Rotgier.
