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18 AN OUTLAW'S DIARYthis night, and by the morrow it will be gone. Thenwinter comes irresistibly, dragging at its heels snow,cold, frost, suffering, the unknown and perhaps theimpossible.What is in store for us ?In the darkness, like the ticking of time, incessantly,the leaves fell with a faint sound. A dogwhined beyond the garden, whined in an eerie,terrifying way, as if somebody had died in itsmaster's house . . .Despair overcame me. It was not only a dog thatwhined its lament : it was the night that wept overHungary.

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