The freemasons, socialists, feminists and galileists stood behind him. Some female members of his own family surrounded him like disciples and repeated without discrimination everything he proclaimed. That which would have brought a trooper to the gallows was freely said by Michael Károlyi the officer. In the clubs gentlemen shook hands with him, and society thought it original and amusing that he should have called his little daughter Bolshevik Eve. The haughty Count Károlyi, who would not have offered a seat to his bailiff and who during the war—well behind the front—refused to shake hands with infantry officers who came, covered with blood and mud, from the trenches, because “_ils n’etaient pas de famille_,” now declaimed about democracy and equality, and made Bolshevism fashionable among his younger female relatives! In this inner circle his influence reached such ridiculous proportions that a lady of his intimate acquaintance exclaimed in her democratic zeal: “Oh, I do love the rabble!” His wife’s relations, following his teachings, poked fun at patriotism, raved about the Internationale, and wore some travesty of a dress because it had been dubbed “Bolshevik” fashion. Of course it was “only in play,” but it was a dangerous game, for it covered those who wore Bolshevik fashions in earnest. The young King was full of the best intentions. Perhaps he saw the danger, but he drew back when he ought to have excised the source of infection spread by Károlyi’s friends. In Austria he granted an amnesty and released from prison the Czech traitors. The Austrian people, once so devoted to their Emperor, became indifferent.... In Hungary he ordered judicial proceedings to be commenced against the traitors, but did not insist on their being carried out. Thus it happened that the Hungarian people, in an agony concerning the fate of their country, felt themselves forsaken and regarded their King with disappointment and bitter reproaches; while the dark forces, gathering encouragement from this eternal indecision, were emboldened to come out into the sunlight. Thus a bloodless war against Hungary was started in Hungary. In the West the successful great German offensive shook for a time the camp of destruction. The successes of our allies were received by Károlyi with fear and trembling. His wife went into hysterics and his confidential newspaper editor, Baron Louis Hatvany, exclaimed sadly in my presence: “No greater misfortune can befall us than a German victory. Russian Bolshevism is a thousand times preferable to German Militarism.” It was as if the earth had opened in front of me when I heard these words. I remember my reply: “German militarism goes armed against armed men; Russian Bolshevism goes armed against unarmed people. That may please you better. As for me, I prefer militarism.”