“Vous êtes Juif?” he asked Hatvany; then looking at Jászi and Károlyi, he said, “You are Jews, too?”
His face showed undisguised disgust when Károlyi introduced to him, as an achievement of the revolution, the delegates of the Workers’ and Soldiers’ Council. He pointed at the collar of Csernyák, the delegate of the Soldiers’ Council, whence the insignia of rank had been removed: “Vous êtes tombés si bas?” Then, instead of bowing, he threw his head back haughtily, turned on his heel, and left them. He dined with his officers, and did not invite the delegation, though the table had been laid for them.
The self-delegated men looked at each other in dismay. How were they to report this to the befooled, betrayed country, which had been rocked to sleep for months by the recital of Károlyi’s connections with the Allies, and the belief of a good peace?... In their fear they accused each other, and one of them said to Károlyi: “In Budapest you were feasted like a demi-god, and here you are treated like a dog....”
Károlyi and his friends went without dinner that day in Belgrade, and after his dinner General Franchet d’Esperay put on his field uniform and with hard words handed the delegation the terrible, degrading conditions of the armistice.
This happened in Belgrade on the 7th of November. One day later, yesterday evening, the members of the government went solemnly to the railway station to accord a triumphant welcome to the delegation. Countess Károlyi, Mrs. Jászi and other “revolutionary ladies” (as they like to be styled) were there too. But the festal crowd waited in vain. Károlyi and his following dared not face them.... They had stopped the special train at a little side-station, got out quietly, and dispersed in the ill-lit streets.
It was through a back-door that they brought their shame from Belgrade into the betrayed town.
November 10th.
A leaden gray rain is falling. From the wall of the old neglected house opposite a big piece of plaster is washed off and falls with a splash into the street, where pieces of it fly in all directions. It is Sunday. Nobody passes along the street. Only the rain drives before the window. It comes and goes again, and writes something on the panes.
The republican party has called a mass meeting for this afternoon. Organised labour and organising good-for-nothings, the Soldiers’ Council, the officers, the non-commissioned officers ... meetings everywhere. And everywhere discourses on the supremacy of the people, its rights, democracy, independence and freedom. But no mention is made of Belgrade. There is no protest meeting or demonstration against the conditions of the armistice. With its cunning lies the faithful, servile press of Károlyi has hoodwinked the crowd again. The town hides the shame of Belgrade in silence, as if it were not its concern, as if it had lost all self-respect. The crowd, stupid and good-tempered, continues on the road which it trod yesterday. Blind flocks of sheep and herds of blinkered oxen, thoughtless and sightless masses, following their degraded leader towards the precipice. They are going, and why does he delay who is to bring salvation?