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In them too were nests of various birds; in the lofts were

dove-cotes, nests of swallows in the windows; white rabbits

hopped about at the threshold and burrowed in the untrodden turf.

In a word the place was like a birdcage or a warren.

But of old it had been fortified! Everywhere there were plenty of

traces that it had undergone great and frequent attacks. Near the

gateway there still lay in the grass a relic of the Swedish

invasion, an iron cannon ball, as large as a child's head; once

the open gate had rested on that ball as on a stone. In the yard,

among the weeds and the wormwood, rose the old stumps of some

dozen crosses, on unconsecrated ground, a sign that here lay

buried men who had perished by a sudden and unexpected death.

When one eyed from close by the storehouse, granary, and cottage,

he saw that the walls were peppered from ground to summit as with

a swarm of black insects; in the centre of each spot sat a

bullet, like a bumble-bee in its earthy burrow.