The knights rode on, and when they had gone some distance Povala inquired,—
"Did ye see anything?"
"At first, nothing," answered Matsko, "but afterward I saw distinctly both the king and the monk."
"And I."
"And I."
"That is a sign from the Lord," said Povala. "Ah, in spite of the tears of our king, it is evident that there will be no peace."
"And the battle will be such as the world does not remember," said Matsko.
And they went farther in silence, with hearts overflowing and solemn.
But when they were not far from De Lorche's tent a whirlwind rose with such force that in the twinkle of an eye it scattered the fires of the Mazovians. Through the air went thousands of firebrands, blazing splinters, and sparks, while it was filled with clouds of smoke.
"Hei; it is blowing dreadfully!" said Zbyshko, pulling down his cloak which the wind had thrown over his head.
"And in the wind it is as if groans and the weeping of people were heard."
"Dawn is not distant, but who knows what the day will bring him?" added De Lorche.
