"You must leave at noon to-day." I sent at once to the count's messenger. Thanks to his official papers he was able to cross the frontier with Olga without any difficulty. They therefore went on in advance. I arranged to meet them at the foot of the belfry in the Austrian village--so near and yet so far. If the sentry stopped me and questioned me, I should be a prisoner!... Towards noon I strolled along by the side of the brook, my big dog jumping round me, the tiny griffon in my arms. The autumnal sun was quite fierce, and the sentry was standing in the shade a little distance from the bridge. I sauntered across the bridge, as if it were a matter of course. The soldier took no notice. I walked away unconcernedly, but my heart was beating furiously! I was in Austria at last! Upon reaching the village I rejoined my "suite." A carriage was waiting. I drove to Salzburg, and put up at a small hotel where I knew I should be in temporary security. I waited three days for the arrival of my Viennese counsel, M. Stimmer, who had been secretly advised of my return to Austria, and of my wish to proceed to Budapest under his protection. M. Stimmer responded to my appeal. He waived all the legal difficulties which might arise from the situation. The voice of humanity spoke more strongly than the voice of obedience to the order which had banished me from Austria, and given me over to the power of Germany, where I should inevitably have succumbed to misery and persecution. But in Hungary I should stand a chance of knowing happier days. M. Stimmer decided to accompany me thither. I had reached the limit of my endurance when my wanderings came to an end at Budapest, and I found myself in a comfortable first-class hotel. The authorities saw nothing compromising in my presence. At my urgent request the count was allowed to leave the small town where he was interned, and remain near me for several days in order to discuss my affairs. Unfortunately the war was hopelessly prolonged. Life gradually became more and more difficult. Austria and Hungary were no longer the victims of illusion. Enlightened by the knowledge of defeat, they cursed Berlin as the author of their misfortunes. Budapest was in a state of ferment. All at once everything collapsed. The wind of Bolshevism swept furiously over the Dual Monarchy. I now became familiar with the commissaries and soldiers of the Revolution. I experienced visits of inspection, perquisitions, interrogations. But suddenly my misfortunes disarmed even the savage leaders of Hungarian Communism. I have already mentioned how one of these men remarked when he saw to what poverty I was reduced: "Here is a king's daughter who is poorer than I am." If I were to live for centuries, I should still experience in thought those poignant emotions which I underwent during the time of torment which overthrew thrones and threw crowns to the four winds of heaven. Past ages have never witnessed such an upheaval.