“We have lived through bad days together,” said Aladár Huszár. “We will share the good ones that are coming as well.” We smiled at each other. We know by now that sufferings unite people more than joys. * * * * * _July 5th._ Everybody says that Balassagyarmat will be in the neutral zone. Its military evacuation is expected for to-day and people are so excited they hardly know what to do with themselves. They stroll about in the street with their hands in their pockets. There is no work, no food; the shops, even the chemists, are empty. Women gather at the street corners. And from the other bank there comes an uninterrupted stream of heavily-laden carts. Fine old furniture, bedding, mattresses, old family portraits, are heaped pell-mell on them. On one, amidst torn silk curtains, on empty bags, I caught sight of a beautiful bracket clock, the jolts of the car making its soul hum. “The famous Balassa clock from Kékkö Castle,” said Aladár Huszár. There came a flock of sheep, followed by a troop of singing soldiers, then a herd of pigs, and some cattle. Valuable Swiss milch cows with huge udders were being driven to the slaughter-house. The people glared gloomily at the plunderers. “The main roads are littered with books,” a young man said in front of the window. “Everything you see has been stolen.” The loafers shook their heads and swore. “The whole of the highlands is ruined. They did not rob the gentry only!” “Who is all this going to belong to?” an old peasant inquired. “Who?” said a frightfully shabby man with a gentlemanly appearance. “Listen to this! It tells you who: ‘The Red soldiers’ Ten Commandments. 10th commandment: Don’t take rich people’s houses, cattle, land or jewellery. Leave those to the Soviet.’” * * * * * _July 6th._ They are coming! Somebody said so and the news ran through the town and blossomed out in every little house. They are coming! How often have we said these words with horror within the last terrible nine months. The soldiers are coming from the front and are no longer defending our frontiers. The French, the Czechs, the Rumanians, the Serbians, are coming. The Communists, the Red soldiers, the searchers, the detectives, are coming. They are coming, the terrorists. Then again we said, ‘the Rumanians are coming.’ And now the words are in our mouths again and they sound joyful and great. Hungarians are coming! From Szeged! Everybody says so. It is simply a question of days.