The earth was blotted out completely. It was worse even than what we had encountered in the mountains. We could see nothing, and hear nothing beyond the muffled sound of our own footsteps.
As far as I could tell, we might be marching right into the midst of the Austrian troops.
The fog filled our nostrils and throats, almost choking us.
The intense silence was appalling. For my part, I should gladly have welcomed the roar of hostile cannon, just to be sure we were still in the land of the living.
The wound in my shoulder, which Mecsey Sándor had bandaged, bled afresh; my head grew heavy; my eyes ached with pain; I felt hardly able to keep upright. Once my foot slipped, and the man against whom I stumbled, taking my arm, supported me.
I was ashamed of my weakness, yet it was good to lean upon a strong arm, and for a time I walked quite steadily.
An extraordinary accident put an end to my powers of endurance, and left me with no more strength than that of a baby.
We were walking step for step, my companion and I, when suddenly I brought my foot, not to the ground, but into the air, and pitching forward, fell into icy-cold water.
My companion came too. Others followed us, some dropping clear into the water, some breaking holes in the coating of ice that before our arrival had covered its surface.
In the thick fog we had walked into a stream. Fortunately it was of no great depth, the water being only up to our waists; but the shock, the bitter cold, and the struggle for breath took away all my remaining strength.