The door was torn open and an old lady stood on the threshold. Her face was grey and she clasped her head between her hands. “It is too late. The Reds have taken the carriage!” I went out all the same. Three soldiers stood near a cart and I pressed money into the hand of one of them. He looked at it stealthily so that the others should not see. I implored them to let me have the cart. I did not want to go far, not half an hour, and I would send it back.... While they were debating the matter I suddenly jumped into the cart and the driver whipped up his horses. “To the station, for my luggage!” The soldiers shouted insults after us but the noise of the wheels drowned their words. The cart was covered with liquid manure. There was a hole in one of the bottom boards and through it I could watch the road running past. I shuddered; once more I had to cross this awful town. At the station I snatched my valise. “Be quick! Drive on!” Then suddenly I caught sight of the mud-faced man with the cap. The coachman looked back at me and seemed to understand my trouble; he gave the horses their heads and the rickety little cart flew over the sea of mud. The puffy face looked after me, but we turned off into a side street and the low houses and closed shops were quickly left behind. Astonished faces peeped out of the windows: I must have looked rather quaint in my town dress on a manure cart! Motor-cars passed from the opposite direction, probably carrying agitators from Budapest. Nowadays one only sees Jews in motor-cars. Instinctively I covered my face with my handkerchief. The road passed under the walls of a fine old castle: its outlines appeared for an instant against the grey sky from among the trees of the park. It was the only spot of beauty in the sea of mud. “The one who lived there committed suicide,” the driver said, pointing with his whip towards the castle. The board put across the cart which served me as a seat was jumping to and fro. I caught hold of the edges of the cart and leant forward. “Who lived there?” “It used to be a boarding school. Little ladies were taught in it.” I asked for more details. “Well, you see,” he said, weighing his words, “when the new order of things came, a comrade was sent down here. He was no older than fifteen and he was a Jew, the beggar was. He used to declaim to the school children in the market place....” I asked him to go on.