Poland was now no place for Sobieski. He had survived all his
kindred. He had survived the liberties of his country. He had seen
the king a prisoner, and his countrymen trampled on by deceit and
usurpation. As he walked on, musing over these circumstances, he met
with little interruption, for the streets were deserted. Here and
there a poor miserable wretch passed him, who seemed, by his wan
cheeks and haggard eyes, already to repent the too successful prayers
of the deputation, The shops were shut. Thaddeus stopped a few
minutes in the great square, which used to be crowded with happy
citizens, but now, not one man was to be seen. An awful and painful
silence reigned over all. His soul felt too truly the dread
consciousness of this utter annihilation of his country, for him to
throw off the heavy load from his oppressed heart, in this his last
walk down the east street towards the ramparts which covered the
Vistula.
He turned his eyes to the spot where once stood the magnificent
towers of his paternal palace.
"Yes," cried he, "it is now time for me to obey the last command of
my mother! Nothing remains of Poland but its soil--nothing of my home
but its ashes!"
The victors had pitched a detachment of tents amidst the ruins of
Villanow, and were at this moment busying themselves in searching
amongst the stupendous fragments for what plunder the fire might have
spared.
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