For Elizabeth the end of the world might have come. The servants to revolt, the men who had been in their employ for years, whom she could have sworn would be faithful to death! She looked at the gates. Too late now to close them, for the villagers were on the threshold. She felt a sob rising in her throat at the treachery of the men, but repressed it, and running to the gates stood in the entrance, her arms spread. Obedient to impulses not yet entirely driven from them the villagers stopped. Only the Communists from Budapest had the courage to advance, and headed by Comrade Grocz they moved forward till they stood in front of her. "Well, my pretty miss, what do you want?" Grocz laughed and spat on the ground. Elizabeth looked at him, a fierce anger blazing from her eyes. "Dog!" she cried. "Get back to your kennel." Some one laughed, otherwise the silence was intense. Elizabeth appreciated the moment, took advantage of it. Coolly ignoring the strangers, she spoke to the villagers, among whom she had been brought up since childhood, and her young voice clearly rang through the air, reaching every man in the crowd. "Men, what do you want? Why come you here to-day? Are you to be turned into a crowd of barbarians at the command of a handful of Jews from Budapest? Are you so forgetful of your own independence that you must blindly follow on the heels of a few mischief-makers who seek only their own advancement? Have you forgotten the four long years of war? Did you sacrifice yourselves for this?" Perhaps her words might have had effect, but unconsciously she touched upon the wrong topic. "Bah! Who started the War, who plunged us peasants into the hell of battle? You magnates, you landowners and blood-suckers. You, who fatten on the work we do for you at starvation pay; you, all of you, started the War to grind us down more than ever!" The words were greeted by a chorus of affirmative growls. The tide had turned and none knew it better than Comrade Grocz. "Out of the way! We cannot stand arguing here all day long. Three cheers for the Dictatorship of the Proletariat! Long live Bela Kun! Come along, comrades, worthy Bela Kun has given us Castle Gisella. Shall we let a little chit of a girl stand in our way?" There was a restless movement. "No, no, move on!" Out of the corner of her eyes Elizabeth saw Imre approaching, and it seemed to her that he leaned more heavily than usual upon his supporting stick. At all costs she felt she must keep the mob away. "Back, back!" She faced them desperately, and her dauntless bearing impressed the villagers, so that once again they stopped. It did more: wavering servants, already ashamed of their deviation from loyalty, lined up behind her, heedless of Eugene's cajoleries and threats.