Ian told him, shortly, what they had run away from.
"Am I near Kosczielna?"
"Ten versts."
"Ah--do we hold it?"
"You do not. But you've killed nearly all the Prussians who held it last night."
"Warsaw is still ours?"
"So far. But Prussians hold this road as far as the river--perhaps farther."
He was thoughtful for a moment. He looked the wildest figure, capless, bootless, his long dark hair blowing in the night breeze.
"To get to Warsaw is useless," he muttered at last.
"Then how can we escape ... where can we go?" put in the Countess.