“Night has fallen on the city... The stars do not sleep, the wind wanders through the bushes, and in peacetime soldiers are supposed to sleep at night. The entire regiment is asleep, except for those who are on guard and busy with daily duties. The soldiers' guardian angels gathered in the city garden, behind the old rampart. Their subordinates, curled up in their beds, opened their eyes, “they can’t sit at their headboards until the white dawn... Angels walk along the paths, talking peacefully, the moonlight through them is completely dead, as if there was no one there.” Only the wing, like a crystal sail, will light up here and there above a bush, and again go out in the dark bushes...”