“What has happened to Cécile Tormay? I am told there is a warrant out against her.” It was fortunate that I was sitting with my back to the light. Again I stuttered something about Switzerland. As if speaking to herself, Mrs. Beniczky said: “But why did she not come here? I would have hidden her so that nobody could have found her.” What a burden of self-reproach these words lifted from my conscience; they told me that it was not entirely by favour of an assumed name, but to some extent for my own sake, that I was received here. * * * * * _April 29th._ This morning the garden beyond the two tall firs was deliciously quiet: the trees and shrubs seem to exclude everything that makes life vile and terrible. Later in the day one of the maids overheard some soldiers talking near the pump. Somewhere in the neighbourhood a priest has been arrested and they are going to execute him because a red, white and green flag has been found in his possession. To the Revolutionary Tribunal with him who treasures a Hungarian flag! The ‘Cabinet’ has ordered that every flag, with the exception of red or black ones, must be given up. Poor Hungarian flag! Between the black and yellow of the Austrian and the red of the Bolsheviks, fate has granted it scarcely an interlude in which to float freely over a free people in a free country. Henceforth the national flag is proscribed in the land of the Hungarian nation. The soldiers went on to talk of other things. One whispered: “Have you heard that Comrade Számuelly is hanging people in Hajdúszoboszló?...” Reality has penetrated the garden with all its hideousness. Trees and shrubs can keep it out no longer. Death to everything that is Hungarian! In the county of the noble Hajdú, the Jewish Dictatorship, in flight before the Roumanians, is hanging people—Hungarians. From General Headquarters Comrade Böhm is driving our people to the slaughter-house. It is said that the pavements of the capital are drenched with rivers of blood. At night there are frequent splashes in the Danube between Buda and Pest. People disappear and never return. The gaols are crowded. Early risers find pools of blood on the chain bridge, with a crushed hat beside them. Who has been murdered? Who are the murderers? There is no answer, but the blood and the news spread. * * * * * _April 30th._ The blossoming plum-trees stood like brides in the grass: whenever the breeze rose their white veils fluttered. Time was marked only by the shadow of a slender tree which swept like a giant clock-hand over the lawn and disappeared. Evening fell.