"It is good. Bring him to me to-morrow. If he is all your praises sing him to be, he ought well to be a match for this dog who writes me these notes." The next morning Wenzel accompanied Garami to Bela Kun. The streets were full of cars in which sat members of the Workers' Council, Administrators of the Country, or even People's Commissaries. They, who preached Socialism, Communism, and Proletarianism, lived in ease and comfort, surrounded with goods, food, and furniture filched from the _bourgeoisie_. Meanwhile the people starved, and rode in tramcars of which the glass was broken or missing. If they were ignorant, uncouth, and wore the Red cockade, they might be granted a food ticket and be allowed to pay high prices for the privilege of eating to live. If they were intellectual, if they lived and worked by the fruit of their brains, if they were decent-living, moral, and religious, they were _bourgeoisie_ and could starve. There were no food tickets for such as they. So, though the city was gay with the red bunting which hung from every roof and every window, stretched from house to house, and with the music played by gipsy bands, beneath it all the people, the real Hungarian people, like the proud Magyar aristocracy, wept, and the tears were of blood. Such thoughts as these did not worry the boisterous Wenzel or the sly Garami, as they strode along the streets. "It's good to be alive this morning, with the sun shining, and the town all gay with flags and colour; what say you, Garami?" "I am with you, comrade." "What puzzles me is why the counter-revolution worry their heads about changing it all. Here we are, governed by ourselves, can help ourselves to everything we want. What more does anybody want? That's what I say. What more can one want? Give me a bellyful, and money in my pockets, and a woman now and again, and you can keep the rest. That's what I say. Keep the rest." "Ho, ho!" chortled Garami. "You say that, you, Wenzel? Who took the best bed from the house at the corner of the Andrassy Ut? Who brought away the chairs and the sofa and the table from the home of Pazmany, the Professor? Who drinks his fill of wine, and forces his way into the theatre? That's what you say?" Wenzel spat, as a passing automobile whizzed past. "Bah! You talk like a babbling brook. Come, the mention of wine and food makes me feel empty. Comrade Bela Kun must make haste. I must eat." In due course they were shown in to Bela Kun, who eyed the big Wenzel up and down, and then smiled cunningly. "You know why I wished to see you?" he questioned. "Yes, comrade. It's some one you want to guard the Count Bakocz from being rescued." He stretched out his long arms and opened wide his huge hand, then slowly clenched his fingers together, and grinned evilly. "just let me get any of these _bourgeois_ between my two hands and I'll wring their necks. Curse them!" "Then you will take the job on?" "Yes--at a price, comrade."