As I came out of the house I saw my brother Béla come towards me. He said hurriedly, “I met Emma Ritoók, who also is in despair. She asked me to tell you that she must speak to you.” That again reminded me that probably there were many of us, only we did not know of each other.... My mother, my brothers and sisters, Countess Zichy, the Transylvanian women, Emma Ritoók, they are faces I can see, voices I can hear, but beyond them there must be many women scattered in the great silent multitude, left to themselves, who weep over the past and fear the future.... When the electric tram stopped I stepped forward to get off. Somebody knocked me in the back. My feet missed the steps and I fell, face first, into the road. I looked back. It was a fat young man, in brand-new field uniform. His characteristic nose fell like a soft bag over his lips. He jumped over me without saying a word, nor did he attempt to help me. He was in a hurry.... I just caught sight of his two fleshy ears under his cap as he rushed on. That is typical of the streets of Budapest to-day; in fact that is the only reason why I mention it. Unfortunately I sprained my ankle. CHAPTER IX _November 16th._ I am ill after my fall yesterday. An icy wind blows at my window. Loud voices rise from the street. Presently my mother looked out and said, “The saddlers and leather-workers are assembling; they’ve got red tickets in their hats.” Hours passed by. Suddenly I heard a loud buzzing overhead and an aeroplane flew through the grey air over the streets. Parliament at this moment is proclaiming the Republic—Károlyi’s National Council is announcing that all Hungary shall be governed by the Republic of Pest. Some handbills were brought up to me from the street.... “Victorious Revolution.... Kingship is dead, long live the independent Hungarian Republic!” I buried my head in my pillow, unable to say a word. There seemed to be a little mill in my chest and another in my head, and both went round and round madly, grinding me to powder. Then I became aware that there was a newspaper on my table—the smell of fresh bad printer’s ink betrayed its presence. It contained an account of what had happened; everything passed off in an orderly way and nobody had prevented it. Another opportunity missed, another day of hope gone! The House of Commons, the Lords, met, resigned themselves without protest, and the newspaper announces: “This is a red-letter day in Hungary’s history....”