I noticed this morning that the soles of my boots were worn through. What a shock! What shall I do if they give way? We had frozen, black potatoes for supper and when we rose from the table Mrs. Huszár told a story about some bread and butter. The little girl began to cry: she was hungry after her supper and wanted some bread and butter. Torn boots, black potatoes, what do they matter? There are Hungarian soldiers in Szeged! CHAPTER XI _June 3rd._ I’ve got a fever of some kind and it frightens me—it would be terrible to be ill at such a time and in a strange house. I must try to keep going, but oh! how I long to go to bed. A man came in from the village this morning and reported that when the Reds made their advance on Friday morning the houses of all Jews were at once surrounded by Jewish Red soldiers with fixed bayonets—to prevent them from being looted. This was corroborated by one of the owners of the protected houses himself. Thus even after the abolition of private property the Dictatorship officially protects all Jews’ belongings. Beyond the Ipoly Red soldiers have plundered Sztregova, the ancient castle where Imre Madách wrote _The Tragedy of Man_; but the Jewish Red soldiers protected the house of Fischer, the land agent of Leszeny.... * * * * * _June 7th._ I’ve had to give in: I can hardly distinguish things and am unable to move. Baron Alexander Jeszensky came to see me, bringing messages from Bercel. Charles Kiss is with the Kállays and is coming to fetch me in a couple of days. He has made all preparations for my escape to Vienna. * * * * * _June 8th._ The Reds have retaken Kassa from the Czechs. Poor City. It received the victors with red, white and green flags, thinking they were Hungarians. Orders promptly came that the flags were to be removed. Two days ago someone knocked at our window late at night. Anxiety spread through the house; men’s voices were audible from the corridor. Aladár Huszár had come home! He looked like an apparition, a man of the woods, for his dress was torn, his shirt was in shreds, and his beard and hair had grown inordinately long. For six weeks he had been hiding with his friend George Pongrácz in the wild hills of Börzsöny. They, too, were expecting the fall of the Dictatorship and were waiting for the intervention of the Entente. Then came the offensive of the Reds. As the battle was progressing northwards they concluded that the Reds were winning and that there was no escape; and as they could not ask for asylum from the Czechs, whom they had formerly helped to drive out, what was the good of waiting any longer?