ity defended the house, and fought it out till no
round of ammunition remained to them. The Russians then burst in, and
despatched at the point of the bayonet every Pole in every room of the
building, including the cellar, where the only survivors of the heroic
band took up their final stand. The bloodshed stopped when each man of
them was dead or dying, and not before. The moans of those lying in
their last agony in this cellar of death were, when the laughter and
merrymaking of the Russian officers died away with the course of the
hours, the only sound that Niemcewicz heard, as by the couch of his
passionately loved and apparently dying leader he lay through the bitter
cold of the October night, weeping not only for a dear friend, but for
his country. At sunrise Kosciuszko spoke, as if waking from a trance.
Seeing Niemcewicz, with his arm bandaged, beside him, he asked why his
friend was wounded, and where they were. "Alas! we are prisoners of
Russia," said Niemcewicz. "I am with you, and will never leave you,"[1]
Tears rose to Kosciuszko's eyes, as he made reply that such a friend was
a consolation in misfortune. The entrance of Russian officers, deputed
to keep guard over them, interrupted the conversation. They were watched
each moment, and their words and actions reported. Later on Fersen came
in and addressed Kosciuszko courteously, speaking in German, which
Niemcewicz--for Kosciuszko knew neither German nor Russian--interpreted.
At midday a deafening discharge of musketry and cannon smote painfully
upon the prisoners' ears: it was the salvo of joy for the Russian
victory.

[Footnote 1: J. Niemcewicz, _Notes sur ma Captivite a
Saint-Petersbourg_.]

On the 13th of October the Russian army marched, and Kosciuszko and his
fellow-Poles began their long, sad journey to a Russian prison.
Kosciuszko travelled in a small carriage with a surgeon, Niemcewicz and
the Polish generals in a separate conveyance, while the rest of the
prisoners went on foot. Detachments of Russian cavalry rode in front and
behind. An immense train of wagons, filled with the loot carried off
from Polish homes, Polish cannon captured on the field, a car bearing
the Polish flags with their national device of eagles, embroidered
heavily with silver, added the final drop of bitterness to the lot of
the defeated sons of a proud and gallant race. On the halt held the
following day messengers came up from Warsaw, bringing Kosciuszko his
personal effec