Now that we have retired from everything, and Hungary’s social life has been swallowed up in the nation’s poverty and mourning, the twin-type of the war-millionaire, the revolution-millionaire, begins to play his part. A new kind of public invades the restaurants, the theatres and the places of amusement: plays, written by its writers, are played to full houses; people in gabardines occupy the stalls, while in the boxes orthodox Jewish women in wigs chatter in Yiddish, and in the interval eat garlic-scented sausages in the beautiful, noble foyer of the Royal Opera, and throw greasy paper bags about. In the restaurants of the Ritz and Hungaria Hotels a new type of guests eat exclusively with their knives; their mentality is shown by the fact that the other day when a few French officers left a restaurant, they ordered the gipsy band to play the ‘Marseillaise,’ and rose to their feet. One of the officers turned back and said: “Sale nation....” Invading conquerors sometimes deprive the conquered of freedom, weapons, and goods; but our conquerors deprive us of our honour as well. Every day it becomes clearer to me that we shall never be able to repel the devastators pouring in over our frontiers till we have dealt with the devastators in our midst, and have put them back into their place. And—if we all work hand in hand— Count Stephen Bethlen wants to weld all the patriotic Hungarian parties into one. We women are already great in numbers. Every day we form new camps in different quarters of the town. I address the women, and tell them that our fortress is a triangle, the three advanced outworks being our country, our faith, and our family. These three outworks are threatened by Jewish socialist-communism. Before the foe can storm the fort we must strengthen the souls of the defenders so that the offensive may collapse. Of all humanity, women will be the heaviest losers if the war is lost and the communists win, for women are to be common property when once the home is broken up, and God and country have been denied. The testament of Peter the Great is the programme of Panslavism. The communist declaration of Karl Marx, the son of a rabbi, Mordechai by his real name, is the programme of Panjudaism. If it is realised, Hungary perishes, and human culture will follow it into its grave. We who fight on the soil of dismembered, trampled Hungary do not fight for ourselves alone, but for every Christian woman in the world. They know it not, and they stretch forth no hand to help us, but look on while the nations to which they belong ruin us. But the day may still come when we shall be understood.