Herds of cattle were driven through the ill-paved streets. Manure, dirt, bugs, rubbish, and flies—big, shiny, blue flies. The Skupstina.... When I saw that I could not help thinking of Hungary’s house of Parliament. The two buildings proclaimed both the past and the culture of the two peoples. Ours is a Gothic blossom, with its roots in the Danube, the bed of which is the grave of our first conqueror, Attila, who received tribute from Rome and Byzantium, and sleeps there his sleep of fifteen hundred years. When I saw the Serbian Parliament it was a building like a stable, with wooden benches in it and the walls covered with red, white and blue stuff. Its air was reeking with the scent of onions and sheep, while the windows were obscured with fly marks. Since I had been there this small Balkan town must have suffered much. The soldiers of Mackensen and Kövess had passed victoriously over its ruins. Now Károlyi and Jászi, with the delegates of the Workers’ and Soldiers’ Council, go there a-begging. Why did they go there? Why just there? The jerking of the wheels of the tram seemed to repeat rhythmically “Why just there, why just there....” According to the official news the French general was haughty and ruthless. He took Károlyi’s memorandum, turned his back on him, and banged the door.... This memorandum reveals the unsavoury truth when it complains that within twenty-four hours after assuming power Károlyi had promised to the Allies to lay down arms at once, but his offer had been prevented by the common High Command from reaching its destination. The High Command had isolated Hungary from the Allied powers, and had cut the telephone wires. It had charged General Weber to negotiate in the name of the old Monarchy with General Diaz, the Italian Commander-in-Chief. Károlyi’s memorandum protested against this because “nobody but the delegates of the Hungarian people are entitled to negotiate for independent Hungary. This is the reason for our appearance,” ended this disgraceful document. So it was nobody who called for them, nobody who sent these people who claim to be the representatives of the Hungarian people. Károlyi the gambler gambles in Belgrade. He plays an iniquitous game. He cheats for his own pocket while his own country loses. The newspaper was executing a wild dance in my hands while I read the memorandum. Surely men have never written anything like this about their own country. They go to ask for an armistice and accuse us before our enemies. “We oppressed the nationalities, we were tyrants....” I felt as if something had been poured down my throat which it was impossible to swallow. I choked for a time, and my blood was beating a mad tattoo at the sides of my head. He who wrote that lied in hatred, while those who transmitted it were cretins or criminals.