The Red press splutters with rage. It foams with vulgar, coarse words against the Entente and Count Stephen Bethlen, because it has heard that even in occupied territory Hungarian White Guards are allowed to be enlisted. But, according to ‘The People’s Voice’: “The comic-opera Government of Szeged has not strength enough to organise the rabble of the bourgeoisie, it has not even the power to form an armed force from its hooligans, cut-throats and gutter mob, for the realisation of its sinister projects.” We really know nothing at all, we do not even know whence the news came, yet we keep saying to each other: “They are coming....” When darkness fell I took a walk in the little back garden. Suddenly somebody rose from among the shrubs, it was the wife of Gregory, the coachman: “Do tell me, please, Miss, what is happening?” The question came suddenly and I answered instinctively: “Our own people are coming! The Hungarians have started from Szeged!” The old woman looked me straight in the eyes, as though seeking confirmation. It was obvious that she had something to say. Then she folded her shrivelled old hands, and, in a devout, humble attitude, which words cannot express, her voice rose through the silent night: “Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name!” * * * * * _July 7th–10th._ The fleeing Directorates from the Highlands are flocking in and requisitioning houses for themselves. Female detectives have come from Budapest. The escaped Directorate of Losoncz has quartered itself on Balassagyarmat. Its chief, Comrade Szijgyártó, terrorises and issues orders right and left. He wants to dismiss all the officials who had been left in their places and threatens that he will not allow any bourgeois family more than one room whatever be the number of its members. He commandeers whatever he wants—take everything from the bourgeois! They are taking even from the poor. Orders have been received that sixty head of cattle have to be sent to Budapest; they will not even leave the milch cows. There is no food: the Government has stopped all supplies for Balassagyarmat, it being in the neutral zone. For days the bakers have baked no bread, nobody will cart wood, and there is no salt. A peasant offered four chickens for two pounds of salt, although he would not sell them for two hundred and forty crowns. One cannot buy anything for money. Our Sunday dinner cost us a towel and a sheet: everything is done by barter, money has disappeared from circulation.