his dark corner, not without surprise, at the wonders worked by the
light. At that moment the magnificent swell of the organ filled the
whole church. It grew deeper and deeper, expanded, swelled into heavy
bursts of thunder; and then all at once, turning into heavenly music,
its ringing tones floated high among the arches, like clear maiden
voices, and again descended into a deep roar and thunder, and then
ceased. The thunderous pulsations echoed long and tremulously among
the arches; and Andrii, with half-open mouth, admired the wondrous
music.

Then he felt some one plucking the shirt of his caftan. "It is time,"
said the Tatar. They traversed the church unperceived, and emerged
upon the square in front. Dawn had long flushed the heavens; all
announced sunrise. The square was empty: in the middle of it still
stood wooden pillars, showing that, perhaps only a week before, there
had been a market here stocked with provisions. The streets, which
were unpaved, were simply a mass of dried mud. The square was
surrounded by small, one-storied stone or mud houses, in the walls of
which were visible wooden stakes and posts obliquely crossed by carved
wooden beams, as was the manner of building in those days. Specimens
of it can still be seen in some parts of Lithuania and Poland. They
were all covered with enormously high roofs, with a multitude of
windows and air-holes. On one side, close to the church, rose a
building quite detached from and taller than the rest, probably the
town-hall or some official structure. It was two stories high, and
above it, on two arches, rose a belvedere where a watchman stood; a
huge clock-face was let into the roof.

The square seemed deserted, but Andrii thought he heard a feeble
groan. Looking about him, he perceived, on the farther side, a group