“Soon post dominicam Judica quadragesimalem I hear from the refugees: the heretics are gone, they headed for Grodków. The relief! I hasten to the church, lie spreadeagled on the floor in front of the altar, gratias tibi Domine, thank You, O Great Lord. And, once again, cries, yelling: why, fresh followers of that Satan Huss, called the Orphans, are coming from Kłodzko. They burned down that hapless town Bardo a second time. At first, hope sprang—perhaps they’ll pass us by? Perhaps they’ll choose Frankenstein? Take the Wrocław road, perhaps they won’t think to turn towards Kamieniec. Thus, to the church, to pray in that intention, Sancta Maria, Mater Christi, Sancta Virgo virginum, libera nos a malo, sancte Stanislaus, sancte Andrea, orate pro nobis… But our prayers availed nothing, it was clear our Lord wanted us to taste—like Job… Ah, yes, indeed. Keep to the subject.