As we approached the town the country became more and more deserted. We could hear the sound of rifles in the distance. The poplars along the Ipoly were bent as though the weight of the leaden sky pressed them down. Everything bowed to the wind, the dust raced along, and petals were swept in showers from the fruit trees. When we had reached the streets two soldiers, pale as death, came running past us. They glared at us suspiciously, with frightened eyes. Others followed them, carrying rifles and haversacks. They shouted excitedly at us: “Into the houses. Nobody must remain in the streets.” Another group came running along, dragging a little fair-haired lieutenant with them. They were holding his hands, and pulling him along so that he should not escape. They even implored him: they needed him. Opposite some railings they knelt down, the raised stocks of their rifles pressed against dead-white cheeks. “The Czechs are here!” We reached the house and banged the door behind us. Machine-guns rattled and a gun roared, making the windows shake. Opposite, under the palings, soldiers bent low and ran feverishly towards the barracks at the end of the town. “There they are, near the wood. They have crossed the Ipoly!” No human being was now visible in the streets. The rattle of the machine-guns continued, and the guns fired more rapidly, the shells whining through the air above our heads and bursting in the vineyards towards Szügy. A cloud rose wherever they struck the earth. “The church spire of Kóvár has been hit, it’s disappeared altogether.” On the main road some cows were rushing along in a wild stampede, the heavy coat of the cow-herd swinging right and left as he ran. Everything was dashing for shelter. The street became darker and quieter, and the rifles alone broke the silence of the night. The electric lights were out, the current had failed. Hours passed, then heavy fists were heard banging at some door. Armed men clattered past our window and went on towards the prison. The unsuccessful Counter-revolution had disclosed the honest people. Another door banged in the next street: they were taking hostages. And in every part of Hungary doors are banging like that to-night.... * * * * * Balassagyarmat, _May 4th_. We are still ascending our blood-covered Calvary; later on its stations may show up clearly. There, at that corner, did they put the cross on our shoulders, there did they smite our faces, there did they spit into our eyes, there did we collapse under the cross, and nobody came to help us to bear it. We had to rise and drag it further.