But a thing like that does not embarrass the Social Democrats: they adopt a disguised programme for the rural districts. Since one of the leaders of the broken-up small-holders party, Stephen Szabó of Nagyatád, has joined the Károlyi government in Budapest the Socialist propaganda has appropriated the patriotic and religious mottoes of that party. The Red Jewish agitators, before addressing the people, kneel down on the platform, make the sign of the cross and pretend to say their prayers. Then they start like this: “Praised be the Lord Jesus Christ, we too, Social Democrats, believe in the all-powerful God....” Notwithstanding the threats of the new ‘popular law’ the various Protestant and Catholic women’s organisations bravely carry on their work. The National Association had a meeting this morning. The whole committee was present, not one was missing; it seemed like a deliberate demonstration. These women can be great and noble. Is this to be our last meeting? “If anything happened,” I said, “and I were prevented from coming again, I should ask Elizabeth Kállay to take my place. If her turn comes, and she cannot be here any longer, let someone else take her place, and so on. The links of the chain must not be broken.” There was stern resolution in our dark, insignificant little office. Countess Raphael Zichy looked at me while she addressed the others: “There is one among us whom the Government wants to arrest. Let us decide that if this should happen, we shall go, with a hundred thousand women, up to the castle and claim to be arrested too, because we have all done what she has done.” She was not laughing now. And in all the weary journey of this wintry world I have never been given anything more precious. * * * * * _February 26th._ Early this morning the door bell rang. Steps tramped about the ante-room. A little later the little German maid came in. “Two soldiers were looking for you, and asked if you were in town. They had an urgent message. I told them you were in town but had gone out.” As she spoke I knew that they had come to find out if I had escaped. It is quite the custom nowadays; they ring, inquire, and go. They follow me in the streets, and sometimes even walk behind me up the stairs. [Illustration: COUNT KÁROLYI DISTRIBUTING HIS LANDS AT DEBRO. (_To face p. 270._)] It makes one feel like a cornered quarry. I’m beginning to wish that something would happen. If it has to be, let them arrest me; but this underhand spying gets on one’s nerves. It is reported in town that I have already been arrested. The telephone bell is continually ringing—friends inquiring if I am still at home.