They Were Counted (45 page)

When he reached the square he hailed a cab and told the driver to take him quickly to the Uzdy villa on the Monostor road. As Balint sat back in the carriage he started to think out his strategy. He was seized with all the excitement of a hunter at the start of the chase. He would make no direct reference to the duel, he decided, though perhaps it would be as well to let drop some slight allusion, vague but unmistakable in its implications. The most important thing would be, somehow, to kiss her as soon as possible. It would be difficult but once achieved the rest would be easy. With the threat of death hanging over him she could hardly refuse one last embrace. No one could be so heartless. Once they kissed the ice would be broken and then he could ask for more,
always
a little more until she surrendered completely. And the thought of such ecstasy made him so excited that he quickly tried to banish such fancies, wishing above all to remain calm,
collected
and in full control of himself.

The cab stopped and Balint quickly paid off the driver and sent him away.

The shutters of the main building were still closed showing that no one was in residence. Balint walked across the snow-covered path to the glazed veranda in front of the entrance to Adrienne’s apartment where he found the old maid doing some work.

‘Is Countess Adrienne at home?’ he asked.

‘The Countess is not at home to anyone, my lord,’ said the old servant. ‘She is indisposed.’

Balint took a visiting card from his case and scribbled on it:
‘
I
shall
probably
have
to
go
away
tomorrow
for
a
long
time.
Please
see
me!’
This he gave to Jolan, saying: ‘Pray give this card to her Ladyship all the same. I’ll wait here for an answer.’

The maid disappeared into the house, leaving Balint on the veranda. He waited for what seemed an eternity though in reality it was only a few minutes before Jolan reappeared.

‘If your Lordship pleases,’ she said, gesturing to him to follow her to the drawing-room door, which she opened, and then stood aside for him to enter.

The room was at least thirty feet long. It was lit by three large windows through which the last rays of the afternoon sun cast a soft glow over the white walls which were hung with portraits of former Uzdys who looked down with frozen, meaningless smiles. Most of the furniture dated from the late Empire period, as in so many Transylvanian houses. An unusual feature of the room was the wide fireplace sunk deep in the walls between crudely carved limestone columns. This was the only reminder that the room had once been the villa’s kitchen. The fireplace was quite large enough to roast a whole calf on the spit of which there were still traces on the stone columns.

In all other respects, except one, the room was just like
countless
others at Kolozsvar and in the country around. What was unusual and surprising was that on the floor in front of the
fireplace
lay a large white carpet with a deep pile and on it were strewn a quantity of soft cushions covered in different shades of red silk. In the centre of these cushions Balint could see a deep
indentation
as if someone had just been lying there. Adrienne,
however
, got up from a small sofa in the corner of the room.

‘I’m glad you’ve come,’ she said smiling. ‘I hardly dared hope you would.’

‘I had to see you once more, before … before I leave. I wanted to take with me the memory of your face, as a sort of parting gift.’ He spoke seriously but calmly, in a low musical tone. ‘There are so few who mean anything, but I wanted to be sure that … well, that there might be one person who would remember me …’

Balint went on. He started repeating himself, for he was far less at ease than he had planned and, indeed, as soon as he started speaking his plan of campaign went completely out of his head. There was nothing artificial either in his manner or in the words he spoke; words of resignation and farewell which came directly from his heart. The idea that he would never see her again had so taken hold of him that the elation of the hunter that had so
possessed
him in the carriage had completely given place to the
despair
of the rejected lover. He spoke ever more softly: ‘… so I was sure I’d find you at home, alone. It had to be alone. I had to tell you, just once more, quite soberly, without passion … you had to know how much I love you. I know I’ve told you already; but you have to know it’s true. I thought if I came and told you now … now that … well, perhaps you’d believe it. And I had to hold your hand once more, your beautiful soft hand, just feel your touch in mine, not by force, but humbly, very humbly …’

Adrienne did not resist. Indeed, on the contrary, she offered him her hand as a gift when, rather tentatively, he put out his own towards her. Gently, rhythmically he caressed her palm, looking deep into her eyes, talking, persuading, cajoling.

As they sat there the room grew darker and darker. Adrienne’s golden onyx eyes seemed to Balint to glow with an inner light. He was not sure but he thought he heard a clock chime
somewhere
. And just at that moment Adrienne leant forward and murmured: ‘I love you too!’

‘Thank you!’ whispered Balint. ‘Thank you!’

For a long time they sat together in silence, lost in each other. Their faces were very close and Balint, conscious only of his joy, gave himself up to the ecstasy that flooded his soul. Now he felt only a deep longing that absorbed him almost to the point that had he died then, he would have died happy.

‘Give me one kiss, just one, before I go!’

For a brief moment it seemed as if Adrienne’s glance faltered. Then she lifted her head and offered him her lips. For a long time they remained in a close embrace, Balint kissing her closed mouth and holding her, very lightly, by the waist. Then, holding her more tightly, he made as if to bring her body more closely to his. Adrienne pushed him gently away.

‘Now you must go,’ she murmured. ‘Please!’

They rose and moved slowly towards the door, their hands
entwined
like brother and sister. They did not speak. When they reached the door Balint turned to Adrienne and bent over her hand to kiss it.

‘If … if … you don’t have to go away,’ she said in a whisper, a catch in her throat, ‘how will I know?’

‘Then I’ll come at the same time as today!’

 

Balint spent the evening quietly at home with his mother. He tried hard to keep her amused by telling her little jokes and
anecdotes
about people she knew, but somehow it was not a success, for try as he would he was too absentminded to be convincing. This was not due to thoughts about the next morning’s duel: his mind was filled only with Adrienne. Even when he was giving
orders
to be called early he was thinking of the time he had spent in her drawing-room that afternoon, how she had murmured ‘I love you, too!’; how they had gazed silently into each other’s eyes without speaking, and how, when they kissed, it had been as if he were embracing a young inexperienced girl who knew nothing of love between a man and a woman.

It was extraordinary that the gay flirtatious woman who he had seen gliding over the ice from one man to another, who had been capable of parrying the overtly sensual advances of Alvinczy and Pityu while continuing to keep them on a string, and who, by enouraging him on Tuesday and failing him on Wednesday, had also reduced Balint to a state of bewildered frustration, could only kiss like a child! After more than three years of marriage and giving birth to a daughter, how was it possible that she would keep her lips tightly closed when kissed by the man she had just said she loved? Something was very wrong!

Balint could think of nothing else the whole time he was with his mother and it was the same back in his own rooms. Even after he had gone to bed he could not sleep but tossed and turned
pondering
the enigma he had uncovered. When, finally, sleep began to overcome him and the self-questioning that obsessed him started to fade from his mind, Balint became conscious only of a feeling of happiness and wonder. It was as if instead of falling for an experienced woman he had met a virgin who wanted to offer her love but did not know how.

B
ALINT ROSE EARLY
and had a bath. Then he dressed with his usual care and was ready and breakfasted well before Tihamer, formally dressed in a black morning coat and carrying a top hat, came to fetch him. Baron Gazsi was waiting for them downstairs and together they went in a closed carriage to the gymnasium, a long barrack-like building which was always used for duels in Kolozsvar.

Abady was led into a small, barely heated dressing-room where he found the physicians and the fencing master awaiting him. On their instructions Balint stripped to the waist and then the physicians bandaged his entire upper body with layers of cotton wool and gauze covered with bands of black silk. When all was ready Balint’s seconds led him into the ice-cold fencing hall, and as they went in another door opened at the far end and Pityu Kendy entered flanked by his seconds, Major Bogacsy dressed like Abonyi in top hat and a morning suit which was too tight for his increasing girth, and Baron Wickwitz, who had put on his dress uniform. He hardly recognized Pityu, who was swathed to the chin with black silk bandages exactly like those they had just wound round Balint.

While the antagonists remained where they were the four
seconds
advanced, greeted each other ceremoniously and drew for choice of swords. At the same time the physicians started
arranging
their implements on the benches that lined the walls. To Balint they looked like medieval instruments of torture, strange shaped knives, scissors, saws and tweezers. With them were placed big pharmaceutical jars filled with strange liquids, and piles of cotton wool and gauze bandages. When they declared themselves ready they proceeded to disinfect the pair of sabres that had been selected for the fight, soaking them in carbolic
solution
until the gymnasium began to smell like a public lavatory. When all this had been done Bogacsy stepped forward to perform his role as principal second. With heavy portentous steps he moved to the centre of the hall, carrying a third sword with which he waved the two antagonists to their appointed places with
imperious
self-important gestures. Then he spoke, his loud voice echoing in the large hall.

‘Firstly, according to the accepted Code, I invite the parties concerned to make peace!’

Nobody answered; Balint and Pityu had both been warned that any reply at this stage was strictly forbidden. Bogacsy waited for a few moments, then spoke again.

‘For the second time, I invite the parties to make peace!

This is ridiculous! thought Balint. They bring me here, stand me half-naked in a freezing room with a sword in my hand, and then they start playing charades! And if I said now that I’d make peace, I’d be disqualified!

Both antagonists were shivering with cold, but Bogacsy was not to be hurried. His self-importance demanded that he perform his role to the full, leaving nothing undone that the Code
demanded
should be done. It was clear that the retired major
enjoyed
these affairs as he enjoyed nothing else in his otherwise humdrum life.

‘For the third time I invite the parties …’

Naturally there was no reply. Balint felt his nose beginning to twitch and was sure he’d catch cold if he stood there any longer.

Bogacsy began again: ‘My bounden duty being fulfilled and both parties having refused to be reconciled … Gentlemen!’ he cried at the top of his voice, his chest thrust out and his huge moustaches bristling‚ ‘
En
garde!’

Balint and Pityu took up their positions, but they still had to wait for a few moments until Bogacsy ordered: ‘Go!’

Four feet stamped the floor, two swords clashed. When Balint touched his opponent it was as if his sword rebounded like a ball on rubber. That he had been touched himself he did not notice.

‘Stop!’ cried Bogacsy at once. Not to be outdone, Tihamer cried ‘Stop!’ too and, grabbing a sword stepped up to the other side of the duellists from where Bogacsy stood. Balint and Pityu both stopped in their tracks and the physicians hurried over to them with wads of cotton wool in their hands. They dabbed
officiously
at Pityu’s shoulder and Balint’s elbow, though, as the swords had clashed and lost most of their striking power before touching human flesh, the wounds were barely skin deep and only a drop or so of blood was to be seen.

‘Disabled?’ asked Bogacsy severely.

‘Absolutely!’ cried one of the physicians.

‘Indubitably!’ said the other almost simultaneously. And they continued speaking alternately like priests in church.

‘Gash near the artery …’

‘Deltoid … very nasty!’

‘Danger of haemorrhage!’

‘… paralysis, cramp …’

‘… any sudden movement …’

‘… could be fatal!’

‘Fatal, certainly …’

The retired major clicked his heels: ‘I declare that both parties are disabled!’ With his sword he saluted the whole company
present
. ‘Gentlemen! Honour is satisfied!’

While one of the doctors stuck an unnecessarily large plaster on Balint’s elbow, Tihamer came up and said in a low voice: ‘
Excuse
me! Do you want to be reconciled?’

‘Of course,’ said Balint good-humouredly, and walking over to his recent opponent, he shook him by the hand, saying: ‘Hello, Pityu!’ and adding, ‘I really don’t know why we had to fight in the first place!’

This should not have been said, and the seconds pulled long faces and pretended not to have heard. As the remark made light of the importance of their functions they should now, according to the Code of Honour, have demanded satisfaction themselves. Among them only the irrepressible Gazsi turned away unable
entirely
to suppress his amusement.

This awkward moment having passed, everyone shook hands and, after Balint and Pityu had got back into their own clothes, walked back to the town centre.

‘Let’s go and have some food,’ suggested Bogacsy, who wanted to prolong the occasion as long as he could. Balint did not want to do this as he resented being forced to remain in the company of Wickwitz after what Dinora had told him. The man was clearly a ‘bounder’ and he wanted to have as little do to with him as
possible
. However, to refuse would have been churlish, so they went towards a coffee-house on the main square. On their way Wickwitz excused himself, saying in German that there were
important
matters to which he must attend. He saluted and turned away before anyone could ask him to explain.

The reason he had left them was that as they were on their way to the coffee-house they had been passed by Judith Miloth’s young brother, Zoltan, who had surreptitiously touched Egon’s sleeve. Wickwitz used young Zoltan as a combination of spy and message-carrier. In return for the occasional gift of otherwise
forbidden
cigarettes Judith’s brother would tell the Austrian where his sisters were going that afternoon, with whom they were taking tea or dinner and what their plans were for the following day. Zoltan felt himself very important and did what Wickwitz asked both well and cheerfully. The job made him feel grown-up,
especially
as he hero-worshipped the handsome athletic young officer.

While Balint and his companions sat round a marble-topped table and ordered beer, sausages and hot pies, Wickwitz was
hurrying
with his schoolboy companion toward the Miloth town house.

 

The Miloths lived in a house in the heart of the medieval part of the town. It was built on a narrow plot that had its front on the Unio street while the back could be reached through one of the narrow little alleys that abounded in the old town. It was to this back entrance that Zoltan led Wickwitz. Leaving the officer
outside
the boy went in to make sure that the coast was clear. While still on their way he had told Wickwitz that Judith wanted to see him. If she wants to see me, thought Wickwitz, then all is well … and still a secret! That’s a good sign. Wickwitz repeated these words to himself several times: with his limited vocabulary he thought only in short sentences. Despite the success of his plans he was not over excited. The boy had told him to wait, so he waited. He was used to it, for life in the army often entailed waiting for long periods without any apparent reason. In the meantime he walked up and down, slowly and deliberately, and when he saw a pretty maid come out of one of the neighbouring houses and cast admiring glances at the handsome young officer in the street, he automatically took note of the number of the house from which she had emerged.

Zoltan soon returned and beckoned urgently to Wickwitz, who moved quickly inside the house and followed the boy up a dim service stairway leading to the upper floors. Zoltan took the stairs three or four steps at a time. Arriving at the top floor Zoltan showed the officer into what seemed to have been a schoolroom and himself disappeared down a corridor. As he waited, Egon looked for a place to put his cap. The furniture was grubby and obviously rarely used. First he thought of putting it on a bed that stood against the wall, but thought better of it, reflecting that one never knew when a bed might not be useful. Finally he hung it on the corner of a washstand.

He heard light steps in the passage outside. The door opened and Judith entered quickly, holding out her hand with a nervous gesture.

‘I sent for you to come because they’re sending me away, to Vienna … perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow!’ Judith was
excited
and out of breath, and sank down into one of the Thonet chairs beside the dusty work table. The young man sat beside her, gazing at her with his great soulful spaniel’s eyes. ‘It’s because I told them,’ she went on breathlessly. ‘I told them yesterday that we loved each other and that you wanted to marry me!’

Wickwitz shook his head gravely and waited until she spoke again.

‘I know that it was only your noble nature that prevented you … I know that but I love you! I don’t care about anything. I love you and I want to save you!’

Wickwitz stretched out his hand and held hers tightly as a sign of gratitude and encouragement. At his touch her face began to soften its expression and tension, and he could see the tears that stained her lashes.

‘You can’t imagine how awful it was! Papa shouted, of course, as he always does; but Mama, Mama said the most dreadful things …’ and she broke off, too ashamed to admit that her mother had slapped her face as if she had been a small girl caught out in some naughtiness. ‘It was terrible, terrible! But I didn’t give in and I’ll hold out whatever they do to me. That’s what I had to tell you!’ and she put her free hand over the one of his that already held her in a gesture of one who makes a solemn vow.

Wickwitz felt that his turn had come to speak, but he could not think of anything better than ‘How good you are, Judith!’

Even he realized that something more was called for and so not knowing what to say, he stood up, pulled the girl towards him and kissed her on the mouth. This, he thought to himself, was better and simpler way than words. When, after a long kiss, he released her, she continued to speak, softly but with great determination.

‘I belong to you! I am yours for ever! I don’t mind how long we have to wait, even if it’s the two whole years before I’m of age. I’ll hold out if you do.’ She paused, and then, as if sensing his thoughts, she said, ‘Could you … because of …?’

The devil waits for no one, thought Wickwitz. If the matter of Dinora’s drafts became known, ‘Dishonourably Discharged’ was all he could expect. The words burned into him like a flame. Still he could not break the thread that he had spun so successfully. He could not ruin everything by merely saying, ‘No! I won’t wait!’ So, somewhat hesitantly, but still with enough emphasis to keep the girl reassured, he said: ‘I’ll wait as long as I can! And if, after all, everything comes out and I’m exposed … well, then,
Schluss
– it’s the end, as I told you yesterday. But, as long as it’s possible
Treu
bis
an
der
Tod!
–
True unto death!’ and he laughed sadly.

The choice of the little German phrase was a happy one and had an immediate effect on the girl. She shook herself and clutched convulsively at his arm.

‘No!’ she cried. ‘Don’t even say it! Never that! But how much time do we have? How long can you hold out? I can’t do anything now … but if I have time I’ll do it. I promise!’

‘Two months, three at the most. In the meantime I’ll do what I can. I’ll try to stall it until you come back … if then …’ he left the phrase unfinished knowing he could hardly say ‘If you’re my wife then your family will pay my debts!’ So he kissed her again, and while doing so he thought that maybe he could get an
extension
on Dinora’s drafts by somehow arranging to pay the interest.

‘I’m sure we won’t stay in Vienna more than four weeks – six at the most!’ She pressed herself to him: ‘Until then! Can I be sure that until then … you won’t …?’