“Yes, we were rather shocked,” said Dessewffy. “But later on we found that there was not a scrap of food in the castle, and the King had to obtain game so that the Queen and the children might not starve. It is all very sad. Their clothes too were left behind in Vienna. When they left Schönbrunn they just threw a few things hurriedly into the car. The children have no change of clothes. They even had to sleep for several nights without bedclothes. It’s no good sending messages to Vienna: the Government Council, which has taken them under its protection, does not even answer.”
I thought of the Austrian and Czech nobles, so favoured by the Hapsburgs, of those, who, insisting on their rights based on the Spanish etiquette of older times, were mortally offended if at some festivity at the Vienna Burg they could not stand in the immediate vicinity of the Emperor, or were put by mistake into a position somewhat inferior to their rank. Where were they? Where was the ruler’s General Staff? The generals covered with orders? Where was the bodyguard with its commander, which “dies but never surrenders?” In the last days of Schönbrunn they all had withdrawn like the tide from the forsaken shore. “Nous étions tout seuls,” the Queen had said.
“And then?” I asked Count Dessewffy.
“After a time some paper was brought, two sheets in all, and Széchényi sat down to make a clean copy of the document: he had the best handwriting of us all.”
Dessewffy showed me the original document. It read:
“Since the day of my succession to the throne I have always tried to free my people from the horrors of this war—a war in the causation of which I had no share whatever. I do not wish that my person should be an obstacle to the prosperity of the Hungarian people. Consequently I resign all participation in the direction of affairs of State and submit in advance to the decision by which Hungary will fix its future form of government. Dated at Eckhardsau, November 13th 1918.
Charles.”
“The King still hesitated when the document lay ready for signature on the table. And as he wavered with the pen in his hand he looked the very picture of despair. During the last few days the hair on the sides of his head has turned gray. Suddenly tears came into his eyes, and he fell sobbing on Count Hunyadi’s shoulder. Well, none of our eyes were quite dry....”
QUEEN ZITA.