CHAPTER TWENTY-THREEIt was more from inertia than anything else that I allowed myself to be driven out to Rákos to see the bonfires being lit in celebration of Hungary’s latest triumph. I sat drearily in the carriage with Elisabeth, Katalin and Teréz Meleki, while Mattias rode dutifully beside us. I knew he would disappear into more congenial company just as soon as he found it, but I didn’t care about that. I didn’t really care about anything.
Impassively, I gazed out on to the darkening streets, changed these days beyond recognition — nearly every house was decorated in Hungary’s new colours — while the people filling them wore cockades of red, white and green, and the radicals added huge red feathers in their hats. More worryingly, all the young men now wore swords — Petöfi’s was so la
