The town is in the hands of the Terrorists and no news comes from Budapest. The last message came this morning. The delegates of the Entente are negotiating with the new Government and are inclined to recognise it. The Rumanian advance has ceased. In the streets of Balassagyarmat the Communists, who were trembling yesterday, are again assuming a provocative attitude; the comrades who were ill recovered suddenly. The propaganda shop has been opened again and the window is full of Communist Declarations. More than two people are not allowed to meet in the street. The Terrorists wanted to arrest Aladár Huszár again, but he had fled. The door bell is ringing all day—detectives and red guards inquiring for him. And in the village the inhabitants and the railwaymen are arming secretly. * * * * * _August 4th._ A shot was fired close to the house and this was followed by a regular fusillade. People came running out of the houses and for some minutes there was confusion. The wife of Gregory, the coachman, tumbled in breathlessly: “What goings-on!—the soldiers have barred our street. They are driving the people into the houses at the point of the bayonet.” I thought at once of Aladár Huszár and hoped they had not arrested him. His wife received many messages not to show herself in the street and naturally we wanted to know what had happened; so by the irony of fate, it was I who crept out of the house. The people I met spoke excitedly; everybody was coming from the direction of the county hall and nobody was going that way. A man said: “Turn back, you cannot go there. A new detachment of Terrorists has arrived and there is a corpse in the street.” So the trouble was not about Huszár. I thanked him for the warning, but went on. Another running crowd was coming towards me. A servant girl leant against the wall and began to tie her boot laces. “What’s happening there?” The girl answered, panting: “They have red caps, goodness only knows what they are, perhaps French, but they are firing furiously.” The shooting had stopped now. Two schoolboys were peeping out from behind a door: “The Jews have taken up arms,” they said mysteriously. The street leading to the station was absolutely empty and nothing was audible but my steps. Men in leather coats were standing in groups in front of the county hall and round the machine-guns bayonets were glittering in the sun. I looked round rather alarmed, this was the first time I had seen the place and I had pictured it differently. There was no tower on the town hall and not a trace of my imaginary arcades or old pump. It was a pity, but the disillusionment of a dream is always so.