Unseen, unnoticed, Lenin's shadow fell across the _tableau_; the ghastly influence of Bela Kun, the example of Tibor Szamuelly, reached even here. Sneering slightly, an ex-policeman, now a Red guard, sighted his rifle and pulled the trigger. The shot went wide, but only just, so that its flight whistled past Elizabeth's ear. The blood drained from her face, but she did not move, and at this first sign of open hostility her courage deepened. Nor was it without effect on the invaders. Like a bone thrown into the midst of a pack of starving wolves the shot released a flood of pent-up passion. Gone in a moment were memories of the past; tradition, gratitude, and common sense, all were forgotten. Jostling, pushing, and shouting out insulting epithets, the mob advanced, led by Comrade Grocz. Some one, she never knew whom, caught her roughly by the shoulders, and she was flung aside like a sack of coal, her dress tearing down to the waist and revealing her underclothing. Even then she might have stood up to them, but a pair of arms weakly encircled her and held her back. "My daughter, my child! Elizabeth, you are not hurt? The beasts, the cowards! Would that I were twenty, even ten years younger and I would flog them out of the castle on their knees. May I be cursed that my limbs fail me, may I----" She put her lingers to his lips, and mutely they stood still, helplessly watching the Communists brush past, and the castle which had withstood Mongols, Frenchmen, Germans, Turks, and Austrians fall to the disciples of Karl Marx and Lenin. * * * * * * An hour later they ventured in again. In the meantime they had hidden in an outhouse, where one of the female servants found them. To Elizabeth she brought another dress, though, when she looked, Elizabeth did not recognize it. "This is one of your own?" she said. "Yes, mistress." "But why did you not bring me one of mine?" Looking everywhere but at her mistress the maid stammered an answer: "I--I was afraid of the--the men, mistress." Decently dressed again Elizabeth decided that her father and she ought to return to the castle, and leaving the shelter of the outhouse they crossed the courtyard. No one was to be seen. They entered, only to stop, aghast. No wonder the maid had not looked Elizabeth in the eye. On every hand were damage and destruction, from every corner ascended a stench of vile, unwashed humanity. The Communists were everywhere, lounging about, smoking Imre's cigars and cigarettes, spitting on the floor, exchanging obscene jokes. Elizabeth closed her eyes to shut out the ghastly scene, and Imre sobbed aloud. His grand old castle, full of heirlooms, priceless antiques, and less valuable pieces of furniture which had become dear to the heart from long familiarity, ruined and desecrated by the filthy hands of the vandals!