Aladár Huszár is the friend of a people who are of no importance to-day. The man who stole in by the back door brought a warning: he must escape, they are going to arrest him to-night. So Huszár left his home and went into the dark streets. The cold penetrated everywhere, even through the walls. We were sitting in fur coats. The candle had burnt to the end, and there was no firewood in the house. Suddenly we heard the noise of rifle-butts banging furiously upon the door. Mrs. Huszár looked at me: “Is it for him, or is it for you?” We put out the candle and opened the window a little. Soldiers were standing outside. “Is anything the matter?” “No,” came the answer; then a face emerged from the obscurity: “We’re only making preparations.” The face looked scared. “We’re looking for the comrade commanders.” “They’ve gone out.” There was a good deal of swearing. Then: “The good-for-nothing scoundrels!” I wondered if the officers had deserted too! * * * * * _April 25th._ To-day has been like a nightmare. Bayonets have been glinting in front of our windows. About noon soldiers poured through the main street. They climbed fully armed into commandeered carts, and drove furiously towards Örhalom. The Czechs have opened their attack! At nightfall the clatter of arms was heard in the direction of the prison. Doors slammed and dogs howled in the dark: the Communists were taking their hostages.... The telepathy of common disaster enables us to guess each other’s thoughts; we say nothing, but we are thinking in common; never has there been such sympathy among suffering humanity. On the Saturday before Easter, only a few days ago, Aladár Huszár remarked: “I am so sorry for you. It must be terrible to have to leave one’s own home, not knowing whither to go and not being sure of a safe lodging for the night.” To-day I thought precisely the same thing concerning him. He has gone, with his faithful friend George Pongrácz. To-morrow they will come here to fetch him and will search the house. We shall all be questioned. And if they recognize me.... Well, so be it! * * * * * _April 26th._ It is impossible to sleep these nights, and the lumbering steps of patrols passing in the icy darkness alone mark the progress of time.