I thought of the stories related by returning prisoners of war, the vague news of the Russian Revolution, the distant outlines of its nefarious actors and its beginnings at Petrograd. Russia’s awful fate filled me with anguish and apprehension. This was the first ordinance of the Revolutionary Council: “MARTIAL LAW.—Anybody resisting the orders of the Soviet Government or inciting to rebellion against it will be executed. Revolutionary tribunals will sit and try the criminals. Budapest, March 21st, 1919.” I jumped up: I felt I should choke unless I did something. “That soldier down there is still walking up and down,” said Mrs. Zsigmondy quietly. “It is lucky that the house has entrances on two streets. I shall go out by the other.” A sharp wind, cleared by rain, was blowing on the boulevard. The carriages seemed to have disappeared, and only motor-cars were rushing about, armed sailors standing on their steps and long-haired Jews, smoking big cigars, sitting inside. The shops were closed, and red posters flamed from their lowered shutters. “Long live the Soviet Republic allied to Russia!” The wind blew the torn down posters of the Károlyi Government over the unswept pavements. Now and then hurrying pedestrians passed with bent heads, their eyes expressing stunned bewilderment. They could not understand what had happened. A chemist’s shop was open: that was the only concession. My head was on fire and my chest torn with coughing. I went in. Many people were waiting for their prescriptions. Two people whispered to each other: “The resignation of the Government was simply a sham to frighten the Entente into re-establishing the old lines of demarcation.” “Goodness no, my dear sir, there has been too much of Károlyi’s cowardly pacificism. The Bolsheviks want to reconquer the whole of Hungary.” A lean young man standing by began to gesticulate wildly: “If that is so, every Hungarian ought to stand by them.” The other nodded: “We shall soon go home to Pressburg....” I was staggered. So they are still credulous, they still believe! I went on sadly. When I reached the offices of the National Federation of Hungarian Women I was taken aback. There was nobody waiting there, the ante-room was empty. What a great thing we had been attempting, we women! To stop a cart running down a slope! We wanted to spread light and confidence and strength into the homes and people of Hungary. Was it to be all in vain, our sufferings, our labour? As I opened the door into the inner office there was a sudden silence within, and the secretary rose from his table. Familiar faces turned to me, but they looked at me in silence, as if a question were on their lips, as if they expected something. Faithful, brave women! In this moment I felt that after all everything was not lost. What we had sown could not be trampled down, the flames we had lit could not be extinguished. A young girl looked in and nodded. “Soldiers are gathering in front of the house....”