hand to knock, but had no strength to do so. Andrii knocked hard at
the door in her stead. There was an echo as though a large space lay
beyond the door; then the echo changed as if resounding through lofty
arches. In a couple of minutes, keys rattled, and steps were heard
descending some stairs. At length the door opened, and a monk,
standing on the narrow stairs with the key and a light in his hands,
admitted them. Andrii involuntarily halted at the sight of a Catholic
monk--one of those who had aroused such hate and disdain among the
Cossacks that they treated them even more inhumanly than they treated
the Jews.

The monk, on his part, started back on perceiving a Zaporovian
Cossack, but a whisper from the Tatar reassured him. He lighted them
in, fastened the door behind them, and led them up the stairs. They
found themselves beneath the dark and lofty arches of the monastery
church. Before one of the altars, adorned with tall candlesticks and
candles, knelt a priest praying quietly. Near him on each side knelt
two young choristers in lilac cassocks and white lace stoles, with
censers in their hands. He prayed for the performance of a miracle,
that the city might be saved; that their souls might be strengthened;
that patience might be given them; that doubt and timid, weak-spirited
mourning over earthly misfortunes might be banished. A few women,
resembling shadows, knelt supporting themselves against the backs of
the chairs and dark wooden benches before them, and laying their
exhausted heads upon them. A few men stood sadly, leaning against the
columns upon which the wide arches rested. The stained-glass window
above the altar suddenly glowed with the rosy light of dawn; and from
it, on the floor, fell circles of blue, yellow, and other colours,
illuminating the dim church. The whole altar was lighted up; the smoke
from the censers hung a cloudy rainbow in the air. Andrii gazed from