In the shadow of Tárnok Street he saw light uniforms. This sight, like a painful recollection, pushed him forward. His shoulder rubbed against the houses and suddenly he stumbled into the shop. The match in his hand evaded the wick of the candle with cunning undisciplined movements.
Sebastian Ulwing fell into the armchair. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, everything seemed to be in a haze. “They make worse candles now than in olden times,” he reflected, then he felt suddenly frightened. He was thirsty. Open the windows. Call somebody. He could move his body but partially. He fell back into the armchair. The effort covered his brow with sweat.
He seemed to hear the guns somewhere. What did that matter to him. All that concerned others seemed to him strange and distant now.
To pray.... A child’s prayer came to his mind. He thought of the past but it tired him as if it forced him to turn his head. Life was so good and simple. That Barbara should have married Christopher was, after all, the right thing.
A painful confusion went on in his brain. Without the slightest continuity in his thoughts, he remembered that he owed the baker a half-penny. He began to worry; he had just ordered a pair of shoes at the bootmaker’s. “With bright buckles.” He had said that. Who was going to buy these now? Then, for the first time, it struck him that nobody wore shoes like that nowadays. Tears came to his eyes. Against his will, his body fell forward. How rusty those buckles on his shoes were ... the one on the left foot was getting rustier every minute. Rust seemed to flow on it, red, dense. It was spreading over the white stocking ... it flowed over the floor.
The candle burnt to the end. The flame flared up once more, looked round, went out. The heavy smell of molten tallow filled the shop and the head of Uncle Sebastian sank deeper and deeper between the leather wings of the armchair....
Outside, with the coming day, the firing increased every moment. But this wild thunder was not speaking to Pest. From the heights of the hills of Buda red-capped soldiers bombarded the castle. The Imperialists retorted hopelessly.
The dawn was gray and trembling.