Bern still battled hard in Transylvania; Dembinski was on the borders of Croatia; while we, trudging through the lower spurs of the Carpathians, were separated from both by over 100,000 veterans.
Rakoczy and a few of his stamp still put on a brave show, talked cheerily to their men, and prophesied that Dembinski was about to do great things; but most of the officers privately admitted that our final defeat was certain.
Görgei himself shared this view, though it did not prevent him from doing all in his power to avert the calamity.
"We're bound to draw the Russians after us," he said cheerfully, "and that will take them from Dembinski's shoulders. If only we can outmarch the Russians and join the Pole anywhere near Debreczin, there may still be a chance."
But could we?
That was a question time alone could answer.
One corps was toiling hard after us through the mountains, but what was Paskewitch doing with the rest of his army?
One morning, about the fifth day of the retreat, the general suddenly told me to go and find where the Russian chief was, and what he was doing.
"The reports of the scouts are very unsatisfactory," he said. "I can't make head or tail of them. Just find out all you can for yourself, and catch me up at Miskolcz."
Taking Mecsey Sándor with me, as he knew the country much better than I did, I started immediately, being in a short time out of sight and sound of the retreating army.