That is the kind of thing Béla Kun remembers when he looks at ‘this Soviet Hungary’ and he dares to say it to a race to whom Louis Kossuth once said: “I prostrate myself before the greatness of the Nation.” Kossuth prostrated himself while Béla Kun thinks of expectorating. I read the report to the end: nobody seems to have risen to choke the words in his throat. In his awful Ghetto-lingo Béla Kun went on: “... It is not the Rumanians, it is our own troops who are a danger to Budapest. We had to disarm the units which returned from the northern part of the Tisza, so as to save at least their weapons for the Proletariat. The morale of the troops is such that Budapest is helplessly at the mercy of a Rumanian attack. The question arises, comrades, shall we give up Budapest, or shall we fight for Budapest? I have always told my comrades that I know neither morality nor immorality. I know of only two things; those that are useful to Proletarianism and those which endanger Proletarianism. And I declare that it is dishonourable to tell the bourgeois the truth if this truth is to be hurtful to the Proletariat. But, comrades, I will not deceive the Proletariat. I will tell you that the workers’ battalions are wanting in the fighting spirit which would entitle us to think of the salvation of Budapest....” Thus does this man speak of his own character, the man who in his absolute power admits that: “We were a small group, in opposition to the majority of working men, when we started the fight for the Dictatorship.” And he reveals the terrible secret of his success: Károlyi’s high treason. “I feel somehow that if the Dictatorship were to perish now, it would perish only because it gained a bloodless victory. It was too cheap, it was given us for nothing....” In fact, it cost nothing except Judas’ money and perhaps the existence of Hungary. For now Béla Kun has renounced the whole of Hungary and is ready to satisfy any territorial demands the Czechs, Rumanians and Serbs may raise, on condition that his power is left to him, and “Budapest, where the protest against capitalism can make a stand.” His is no longer a human thirst for power: it is an insatiable animal greed, which allows the limbs of its prey to be torn off as long as it can devour the heart. After having bartered away the land which the nation has held for a thousand years in exchange for a single town, he has telegraphed to our hungry neighbours, offering them the ancient soil of the nation. And all he has to say to his comrades about this unexampled deed is this: “It was not for our pleasure that we sent those telegrams to the surrounding bourgeois states....” A stranger soul has never used stranger language in Hungary. [Illustration: BÉLA KÚN GIVES AN ADDRESS IN KASSA. ]