The cause of the two Emperors’ downfall is the same. Napoleon wanted to make France the first power of the world, and Kaiser Wilhelm dreamt the same dream for the German Empire. Neither of them could stop half-way. Is it a Saint Helena that fate has in store for Kaiser Wilhelm? Will the Dutch castle that has received him turn out to be a replica of the _Bellerophon_? The Kaiser was a friend of the Hungarians. Once in the royal castle of Buda he proposed the health of the Hungarian nation. Since the rule of the Hapsburgs no crowned head has ever spoken to us like that. His speech was printed in school books, the children learned it by heart, and the memory of the Kaiser stayed with us. But he never came again to our midst. During the war he went to Vienna, to Sophia and to Constantinople. He never stopped at Budapest. And while the Hungarian people waited for him whose soldiers had bled with ours at three gates of our country, he was forced to bear in mind the jealousy of Vienna. His picture was in the shop-windows, Budapest had named its finest boulevard after him, the colours of his Empire floated everywhere and if his train touched the country’s soil the newspapers wrote in his homage. In 1916 Tisza went to the German General Headquarters. The Roumanians had just invaded Transylvania and he asked for troops and help for his hard-pressed country. “Will the Hungarians be grateful for it?” asked the Kaiser. “We shall be grateful,” answered Stephen Tisza. They have torn the contract of our alliance, but a common misfortune can write a more permanent alliance than any human hand. Marshal Foch’s document stating the conditions of the armistice with Germany is the twin of the ruthless writing of Belgrade. Wilson’s mask has fallen and the victors beggar us and let loose upon us the blood-stained cloud which comes from the East to cover the despair of betrayed peoples. On this cloud obscure strangers steal over the Russian border into the heart of Europe and join with those whose features resemble theirs. And there are such in Paris, in London, and in New York too.... They have invaded the greater half of Europe. In Russia Trotski-Bronstein, Krassin-Goldgelb, Litvinoff-Finkelstein, Radek and Joffe are all-powerful. In Munich Kurt Eisner is the master and president of the Republic. In Berlin Beerfeld is at the head of the Soldiers’ Council and Hirsch at the Workmens’. In Vienna the power is in the hands of Renner, Adler, Deutsch and Bauer. And in Budapest.... Is this all accidental? Carrion-crows on dying nations.... They hack out the eyes that still see, they pierce the still throbbing hearts with their beaks, tear shreds of flesh from the convulsed members. And nowhere does anyone appear to drive them away. Nothing happens.... Silently, silently, like speechless despair, the rain beats at my window. * * * * * _November 11th._