"The Poles of the Second Vistula Regiment, commanded by Chopliski and directed by Rogniat, colonel of engineers, had been divided into several small detachments, which were taken into action one after the other, to avoid confusion. These heads of columns traversed at a run some 200 exposed yards, and dashed impetuously onto the ruins of the first wall of the enclosure, which had been flung down for a considerable length. A second wall behind the first had only been damaged by the breaking open of the breach some eight or ten feet wide, and the guns of the 1,200 defenders of the convent were all pointing on it and pouring forth a hot fire.

The first of our brave fellows to arrive, Captain Segond, of the engineers, and Captain Negrodski, flung themselves head foremost upon the breach, and were followed by all the men of the Vistula Regiment, who came on like enraged lions, flung themselves into the opening and defile beyond it. A terrible struggle now took place in every part of the convent, monks, soldiers, peasants, and even women and children urging each other on, and disputing every inch of ground, defending themselves from the top to the bottom of the stairs, from corridor to corridor, from room to room, entrenching themselves behind bales of wood and even piles of books, and from every point pouring out a murderous fire. One of the Poles was actually killed on the stairs by a monk with blows from a crucifix. For all that, however, the Spanish were driven back beyond the Capuchin Convent, of which we remained the masters."

Lejeune continues in his praise of the Poles:

"The Poles of the three regiments of the Vistula acquired incredible skill in this service [sentinel watch on besieged portions of Spanish towns]. They would at once notice every little opening made by the enemy in the walls, even if it were no bigger than a penny piece, and would point it out to any of us who happened to approach it, warning us to be on our guard.

Those warnings were generally given by signs, as very few of us understood Polish, and they were not only valuable but also quite comic on account of the quaint pantomime with which our eagerly benevolent friends enforced them. Looking at us with eyes full of meaning, they would paint to the dangerous little hole or loophole with one hand, whilst they placed a finger of the other on their lips to enjoin silence; any one who neglected to obey these expressive signals was sure to be immediately shot down, for apparently insignificant little holes were so close to us that every bullet from them found its billet...

"...the skill and unwearied watchfulness of our Poles saved the lives of a good many Frenchmen, who were too much disposed to despise the caution which they thought detracted from their courage. I myself twice owed my life to our Poles, and I am very certain that but for them our loss would have been very much greater."