So she waited at the windows, and the Communists came nearer till she was able to see their faces, and for the first time feared. Most of them were villagers, led by a sprinkling of strangers, but the vanguard was packed with cruel faces and criminal countenances. Even many of these men she knew, recognized them as incorrigibles, vagabonds, ne'er-do-wells, every one of them an _habitué_ of prison. Where were the police that these convicts were let loose? She experienced a thrill of horror: there, side by side with the misdemeanants, walked the renegade police, no longer spick-and-span in their uniforms, but dirty and dissolute, wearing conspicuously their ensign of shame, the Red cockade. "Oh, Mother in Heaven!" she breathed. The awakening at last! "Father, the gates! we must close them! Then we can defy them, snap our fingers at them." Before he had time to reply she hurried from the room and called the servants as she ran. In the courtyard Joseph and Eugene the coachmen were watching the Communists, whispering to each other in an undertone. Then Elizabeth was before them. "Joseph, Eugene, the Bolsheviks are coming to occupy the castle. Shut to the gates." Neither man moved, just glanced uneasily at one another. "Eugene, do you hear?" The other servants were joining them, all but the women. The man looked up and scowled. "Yes, mistress, I hear," but he made no attempt to move. Fear tugged at Elizabeth's heart, but the servants did not suspect it, as before her burning looks their own gaze gave way and fell. "Then obey. Shut to the gates and keep that rabble at a distance." From the back a voice shouted: "Hold hard, mistress! Don't you call our friends names." Elizabeth endeavoured to locate the voice, but the man had hidden himself behind another servant. "Friends!" Her voice rang with contempt. "Do you call those men your friends? Do you, Eugene, and you, George, or you, Bela?" Only Eugene had the pluck to answer. "I choose my own friends, mistress. Times are different now. We are all alike, you and me and Joseph." He laughed coarsely. "You are not our mistress now. You and me are comrades. This castle belongs to the country, and me and Joseph and all of us are going to share it." Elizabeth did not waste time in words. She stepped forward and flung her hand across his face, and the force of it first whitened the skin then left a livid weal. There was a deadly silence. One or two of the more timid servants shrank back, still amenable to authority, but Eugene the coachman, his face diffused with evil, stepped forward. "You----" He raised his arm, but Joseph caught hold of it. "Wait, Eugene, wait for the others. In a few minutes our pretty mistress will soon realize who governs the country now. Comrade Grocz knows how to deal with the _bourgeoisie_. Besides..." he whispered in the other's ear, and afterward they both grinned evilly.