They Were Counted (95 page)

The next day at noon an infantry captain and a senior lieutenant waited on Gyeroffy. Wickwitz, who knew his Army Regulations, was aware that as an officer on active service he was obliged, if publicly insulted, to ask only other officers to act as his seconds. This was just as well, for soldiers don’t ask questions, don’t
intervene
in such affairs and certainly require no explanation. For them the
Tatbestand
– the cause of offense, was enough. Wickwitz had reported what had happened to divisional level, which in turn sent back an order that the commanding office of the
infantry
regiment stationed at Kolozsvar should select seconds in this affair. The colonel, as it happened was on leave, but the
second-in
-command, one Lieutenant-Colonel Zdratutschek, was in charge during the colonel’s absence. Wickwitz went to see him and explained the insult offered to him, and which was serious chiefly because he had been in uniform at the time and that
therefore
it was the ‘Kaiser’s Rock’ – the official dress of the emperor’s service, which had suffered the insult. This was a good argument with Zdratutschek who became red with rage, named two officers at once and told them, off the record, that they must insist on the most severe conditions. ‘
Dieser
magyarischer
Rebellen-bagage
– these rubbishy Hungarian rebels,’ he shouted, ‘must be taught a lesson! We’ll show them!’ For Wickwitz this support was not an unmixed blessing for the irate lieutenant-colonel ordered him to shut himself up and see no civilians until the duel had been fought, which meant that he couldn’t see Judith. This was
annoying
, but Wickwitz hoped that he would be able to deal with Gyeroffy that afternoon and so be free to contact Judith in the evening.

However, things did not go anything like as smoothly as everyone expected. Gyeroffy’s seconds, Major Bogacsy, the
assessor
at the county court, and Joska Kendy, found that Wickwitz’s conditions were far too harsh to be acceptable. Three shots, the first from twenty-five paces, the second from twenty paces, and the third from fifteen paces, and, should there still be no definite result, a fight with heavy cavalry sabres until one or the other was disabled – and this without bandages. Despite the fact that Gyeroffy had no objections, his seconds refused to accept these proposals for, as the arch-expert Bogacsy stated, the duelling code prescribed that such murderous conditions were to be allowed only when the offence had included actual bodily harm. This is what the Code Duverger said, and the Code being his bible, the major was not going to budge an inch. ‘Gyeroffy has no say in the matter,’ he declared and that was an end of it. Instead, Major Bogacsy demanded that a Court of Honour be convened to decide how the duel should be conducted. This time it was the turn of the soldiers to object. They said that they would submit to no authority that was not military. More discussion followed, for this last demand was not acceptable to the civilians. Major Bogacsy resigned his place, as he was a soldier on retired pay, and was
replaced
by Uncle Ambrus, who declared that there was only one kind of honour, that everyone knew what it was and that he, Ambrus Kendy would not yield, even to Almighty God himself.

Three days passed, three long days for all concerned.

The whole town was buzzing with the news of the affair of the impending duel. Everyone talked of it, discussed it and had their own views on the rights and wrongs of the affair. In the
coffee-houses
and on the streets people talked of nothing else. Even the students at the university took up the cause.

The subject was no longer what sort of satisfaction Wickwitz was entitled to demand from Gyeroffy, but rather how monstrous it was of the military to browbeat respectable civilian gentlemen and refuse to accept their age-old code of honour. Daily Uncle Ambrus could be heard in the Casino castigating the
soldatesca
–
the soldiery, to everyone within earshot. The club was packed and the big drawing-room was full from noon until late at night. The older men sat round the fireplace, among them Sandor Kendy, Daniel, Stanislo Gyeroffy, Laszlo’s former guardian, Count Adam Alvinczy, father of the young Alvinczy quartet, old Rattle Miloth and, of course, Uncle Ambrus. All these were of one mind, and they were supported by Tihamer Abonyi and Major Bogacsy who, since he had to retire as a second, became even more passionately involved in the case never stopping for a moment to expound the issues involved and taking the
opportunity
to give everyone a good lecture on how these things had to be done. Chubby-faced Kamuthy was another who seemed to think of nothing else and he, and the others who were present on the fatal evening, explained it all to each other over and over again. Only Joska Kendy kept his mouth shut, nodding occasionally as he drew on his pipe.

Balint, too, spent most of his time at the Casino, not because he much wanted to take part in all these passionate discussions but because he needed to know what was going on so that he could report it all to Adrienne.

Gyeroffy himself was not to be seen. He shut himself up in his hotel room and refused to see anyone except his seconds. Even these only received curt answers to their questions and absolutely no explanation as to why he had called Wickwitz a ‘scoundrel’. In vain, too, did they ask him what he had meant by the word blau – blue, which they hadn’t even realized was a proper name. Gyeroffy refused to reply and made it perfectly clear that he just wanted to be left alone. As soon as they had gone he took his
brandy
bottle out of the wardrobe and drank deeply.

Finally, on the afternoon of the fourth day it seemed that some sort of agreement had been reached between the soldiers and Laszlo’s seconds. It was not completely satisfactory but seemed to give hope of a solution. The officer-in-charge let it be known that he would agree, though not officially, to the substitution of a Weapons Commission for the Court of Honour demanded by Gyeroffy’s seconds. It was emphasized that the army officers would not consider themselves bound to accept any decision reached by such a commission. They would, nevertheless, receive official instructions in accordance with such a commission’s
findings
. The colonel accepted this compromise not because he liked it but as a result of a message from the divisional general saying that, in view of the growing unrest in the town, an immediate
solution
must be found and the matter put to rest. Accordingly, it was arranged for the Weapons Commission to meet at half-past two so that at three or just after the duel could take place.

Wickwitz had been spending his time exclusively with his army friends. On the first day after the challenge he had been worried lest Gyeroffy had let out what he knew of the Dinora-Blau affair and would not therefore be obliged to fight. However, seeing that his seconds remained as cordial and friendly as when they were first appointed, he became calm again for it was clear that Gyeroffy must have kept his mouth shut. When midday came on the fourth day of waiting and they told him to be ready to fight at three o’clock, he was not merely relieved but also overjoyed.
Na,
endlich
–
at last, well, at dawn the next morning, he would elope with Judith; up and away! Quickly he scribbled a few lines to her:
‘
Tomorrow
morning
I’ll
be
at
the
station
before
five.
I
’
ll
be
in
the
second-class
waiting-room.
’
Then he thought he ought to add some endearing, eager phrase, for he knew that girls appreciated that sort of thing; but though he pondered for some time he could think of nothing more eloquent than
‘ewig
dein
–
forever yours’, that would have to do! He added these two words at the end, put the note in an envelope and sent it with one of the hotel pages to Zoltan at his school. He knew the boy would somehow get it to his sister.

The Weapons Commission met in the Casino and consisted of the elder Count Adam Alvinczy and Tihamer Abonyi, who had proposed his services with such insistence – for he was much
attached
to Wickwitz – that he managed to get appointed.
Crookface
Kendy presided. Just before half-past two they retired to the library together with Gyeroffy’s seconds. The anteroom outside was also closed to other members so that no one could overhear the discussions inside.

By the time the commission had already been in session for a quarter of an hour, everyone in the club was eagerly watching the inner doors of the library. Instead it was the entrance doors from the street which opened.

Baron Egon’s seconds entered the Casino in full uniform,
looking
stiff and unhappy, their shakos in their hands. They asked where Gyeroffy’s seconds were to be found. At once they were ushered through the smoking-room and into the library beyond. The doors closed behind them. Everyone wondered what could have happened. What was this? What did they want, barging in here?

There was another surprise. Baron Gazsi Kadacsay was now standing in the outer hall. He did not come in but remained with his shako on his head, pacing up and down. He, too, was in full uniform. It was amazing, unheard-of: Gazsi, who was always so careless of his appearance, here in the club, freshly shaven and dressed to the nines. They tried to question him, pouring out into the entrance hall and begging him to come in and tell them what was going on. ‘Why are
you
here? Why don’t you come in? Whatever are you doing in uniform? Is the King expected? When did you arrive? Where have you come from? From your
regiment
? From Brasso? Are you on duty?’ The questions poured out, but they received no answer.

Gazsi was by no means his usual light-hearted self. He stood there unusually serious, and replied as shortly as possible to all the questions with which he was plied. When at last someone asked about the duel, enquiring if he had been sent to Kolozsvar in connection with Nitwit’s challenge, Gazsi turned away, and seeing Balint Abady across the room, went over and drew him
towards
the staircase.

‘Thank heavens you’re here, my friend. For God’s sake talk to me about something, anything, and get me away from these
lunatics
. What a bunch of fools!’

They did not get far because at this moment the two officers came down. Baron Gazsi stood to attention, Wickwitz’s seconds joined him for a brief moment and stood one on each side of him; then all three saluted, turned and marched smartly out of the building.

Everyone rushed to the smoking-room where they found the members of the Weapons Commission just coming out of the
library
. But their curiosity was not to be satisfied. No matter how hard they tried they could get no proper answers to their
questions
. Crookface merely grunted in a negative way; Alvinczy shrugged his shoulders. Uncle Ambrus swore at everyone telling them all to go to hell. Then, with Joska Kendy, he left the
building
and everyone assumed that they were going to see Gyeroffy. Abonyi muttered: ‘The duel is postponed!’ and hurried away without explanation.

 

Baron Gazsi and the two officers drove at once to Wickwitz’s
hotel
. They found him waiting for them in the passage.

‘Servus
Kadacsay!
Bist
auch
hier?
Also
was
ist
–
You here too? What’s up then?’ he asked as he showed the way to his room.
‘So
nehmt’s
doch
Platz!
–
find yourselves a seat’ he said, sitting down himself and offering them all chairs. Then he looked up into their faces and said no more.

No one sat; the three men just looked down at him, their
expressions
grim and set. They stood there, stiffly, their shakos still on their heads, and looked at him in silence. Wickwitz shuddered, his spine tingling. He rose from his seat.

‘Oberleutnant
Baron
Egon
von
Wickwitz!
’
the captain spoke in German, ‘a legal complaint has been lodged against you;
therefore
we are obliged to withdraw as your appointed seconds.
Lieutenant
Kadacsay will inform you further!’

The two men saluted and left the room without shaking hands. Baron Egon sank back on to the sofa. Gazsi took off his shako and pulled up a chair beside him. It was clear that he did not
relish
the task he had before him. He smoothed his short-cut hair a couple of times and, his head held sideways like a raven, he looked at the man beside him.

‘Na
also,
was
hast
Du
mir
zu
sagen
–
well then, what have you to say to me?’ asked Wickwitz in a low voice.