The roar of cannon and the bursting of bombs thundered
through the air, which was rendered livid and tremendous by long
spires of fire streaming from the burning houses, and mingling with
the volumes of smoke which rolled from the guns. The dreadful tocsin,
and the hurrahs of the victors, pierced the soul of Thaddeus.
Springing from the ground, he was preparing to rush towards the
gates, when loud cries of distress issued from within. They were
burst open, and a moment after, the grand magazine blew up with a
horrible explosion.
In an instant the field before Praga was filled with women and
children, flying in all directions, and rending the sky with their
shrieks. "Father Almighty!" cried Thaddeus, wringing his hands,
"canst thou suffer this?" Whilst he yet spake, some straggling
Cossacks near the town, who were prowling about, glutted, but not
sated with blood, seized the poor fugitives, and with a ferocity as
wanton as unmanly, released them at once from life and misery.
This hideous spectacle brought his mother's defenceless state before
the eyes of Sobieski. Her palace was only four miles distant; and
whilst the barbarous avidity of the enemy was too busily engaged in
sacking the place to permit them to perceive a solitary individual
hurrying away amidst heaps of dead bodies, he flew across the
desolated meadows which intervened between Praga and Villanow.
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