The nobles heard this news eagerly; the older men, who knew how gigantic was the power of the pagan, with anxiety in their faces, the younger men with knit brows, and with fire in their glances. But hope and enthusiasm were predominant, for fresh in their minds was the memory of Hotsim, where the king reigning actually, a hetman at that time, leading Polish forces, besieged a Turkish power greater than his own, bore it apart upon sabres, and trampled it with horsehoofs. They were comforted by the thought that the Turks, who rushed with irresistible daring on all troops of other nations, felt their hearts weaken when they had to stand eye to eye in the open field against that terrible "Lehistan" cavalry. Still greater hope and still higher enthusiasm were roused by the preaching of Father Voynovski. Pan Gideon was somewhat afraid lest in that sermon there might be some reference to sins, and certain points of blame which would touch him and his treatment of Yatsek, but there was nothing of that sort. War and the mission of the Commonwealth had swept the priest away heart and soul. "Christ," said he, "has chosen thee among all the nations, He has placed thee on guard before all the others, He has commanded thee to stand beneath His cross and defend, to thy last drop of blood and the last breath in thee, that faith which is the foundation of living. The field of glory lies open before thee, hence, though blood were to flow around thee on both sides, though arrows and darts were to stick in thee, rise, lion of God, shake thy mane, and thunder so that from that thunder the marrow will melt in the bones of the pagan, and crescents and horse-tails will fall, like a pine wood in front of a tempest."
Thus did Father Voynovski speak to the knightly hearers before him, because he was an old soldier who had fought all his life and knew how it was on the battlefield. When he spoke of war it seemed to those present that they were looking on the canvases in the king's castle at Warsaw, on which various battles and Polish victories were presented as if real.
"See, now," said he, "the regiments are starting. Their spears are lowered to a line with the middle of the horse-ears; they have bent forward in the saddle, there is a cry of fear among the pagans, and delight up in heaven. The Most Holy Mother runs to the window with all her might, crying: 'Oh come, dear Son, and see how the Poles are attacking!' The Lord Jesus with his holy cross blesses them. 'By God's wounds!' he cries, 'there they are, my nobles, my warriors. Their pay here is ready for them!' And the archangel, holy Michael, strikes his palms on his thighs and shouts: 'Into them, the dog-brothers! Strike!' That is how they rejoice up in heaven. And those down here cut and cut. Men, standards, horses roll over and over. They rush across the bellies of Janissaries, over captured cannon, and trampled crescents; they advance to glory, to reward, to an accomplished mission, to salvation, to immortality."