As if I had suddenly been perceived the bayonets turned towards me and the men in the leather coats shouted furiously: “Back!” Someone looked out of a ground-floor window. The soldiers promptly stuck their bayonets into it. “Bloody bourgeois, in with your head, or I’ll knock it off!” I saw that the Terrorists were coming in my direction, so I thought it was time to turn back. In the afternoon a detective called. He was one of those whom we call ‘radishes,’—Red outside and White within. He inquired after Aladár Huszár and told his wife that the red caps who had been mistaken for Frenchmen were hussars back from the Tisza front and that the firing was caused by an attempt of the town guards to disarm Comrade Szijgyártó. He was saved by the Terrorists, who were now masters of the town. Then he looked carefully round: “The Lenin Boys have decided to hold out to the last. They want to revenge the fall of the Dictatorship and intend to plunder to-night. There are a hundred of them. They are out to kill and have marked this house. Be careful!” He looked round again. “And please don’t forget to tell Mr. Huszár when he gets back into office that I am not a Communist.” Hours passed. The news passed like a shudder through the streets. Many locked their front doors. I buried my papers again and we also hid the money that was in the house. We all packed up our most necessary things. As evening fell, we could bear our isolation no longer. I must try.... I will go towards the station; perhaps I shall hear something by chance. But the streets echoed with emptiness and the station was deserted. Only a workman was sitting on the weighing machine filling his pipe. “When is the next train for Budapest?” “There won’t be any train,” the man answered and lit his pipe. Then he closed his eyes. I went homewards. New posters were showing on the walls:— “Strict martial law.... All gatherings are prohibited and those who do not obey the injunctions of the Red guards will be shot on the spot.... Szijgyártó. County Commander.” Near a paling a short elderly Jew was standing and talking to a woman. Quite coolly, obviously so that I should hear it, he said: “At half-past five the Rumanians entered Budapest.” I stumbled, though my foot had not hit an obstacle, and the blood rushed to my face. The Rumanians! I could hardly grasp it. The Rumanians! That is the reason, then, why our people could not come! That is the reason why the Entente stopped them! That is why so many of us had to die during the long months of waiting! The occupation of Budapest was reserved by the Great Powers for the Rumanians so that the city might become their prey and they might still act the rôle of deliverers. I felt giddy as I walked home. The blow and the humiliation were so great that everything else became indifferent. Budapest is in the hands of the Rumanians!