They Were Divided (12 page)

Later on, when they went in to lunch, she made the visitor sit at the place of honour on her right, for even though he was not of their class he was a visitor and a stranger while Gazsi, as a distant cousin, was treated as family. She talked mainly to Kozma, asking after all his family, his father and uncles, but especially after his father, of whom she spoke with great warmth and much sympathy.

No one could have told from her manner to the son how angry she had been, year after year, with the father. It had only been once a year and why this was no one knew but she. The truth was that, starting on her fiftieth birthday, Aron Kozma’s father, Boldizsar, had sent her birthday greetings on a postcard and that every year he had mentioned her age for all to see. Before her fiftieth birthday he had never even written a letter of congratulation – nothing until the open postcards when she was fifty – and even she had no idea why he did it. She supposed that it must be revenge for some – by her – forgotten childhood slight but remembered by him for forty-odd years. She had only been thirteen years old when Aron’s grandfather had stopped being the Abadys’ estate superintendent and had moved away from Denestornya. Since then she had never again met Boldizsar or any of his brothers, all her former childhood playmates, and
however
hard she tried she could not recall any possible occasion when she might have offended one of them. On the contrary she had loved them all, particularly Boldizsar, who was the same age as she and who was her very special friend. It was very annoying not to know the reason why he should so obviously set out to
provoke
her and yet he did, year after year, and each time it
happened
it spoilt her day and made her angry. But now there was no sign of all this: today Countess Roza was all smiles.

It was her form of revenge. If the father was malicious she was determined to charm the son so that when he returned home he would recount how charming and gracious she had been, how affectionately she had spoken of his father, and how gay and happy she seemed to be. She had carefully planned her reception of the son so as to show the father how ineffectual his malice had
been. When Boldizsar got to hear of how sprightly and youthful she was, despite her age which he never failed to mention so
gratuitously
, she would have had her revenge; for she was sure it would be a real punishment for him to believe that she hadn’t even noticed his impertinence.

For Countess Roza the game was an easy one, for she was kindly by nature and now she had many happy childhood
memories
to recall and relate. And while she did so she often looked covertly at the young man’s face, as if searching in his dark-
featured
Tartar looks for a resemblance to her old playmate.

When they had finished their coffee after lunch the hostess
suggested
that they should all go down to the lower part of the park to look at the horses which, after the hay had been gathered in the meadows in the mountains, were always brought back to graze at Denestornya.

‘We should start at once,’ she said, and asked Balint to order the horses to be put to an open carriage so that they could do the rounds before it got dark.

‘My dear Mama, it’s only five minutes’ walk. They’re all quite close to the house, just the other side of the millstream.’

‘Never mind that, I’d rather drive. Will you come with me?’ she said to Aron. ‘They could drive us round the park so as to give you some idea of the place as it’s your first visit.’

This offer was also intended as an honour for the visitor, an honour which Countess Roza always enjoyed bestowing because she, like her father and grandfather before her, had spent much of her life in planning and beautifying the castle’s surroundings. She loved it all and she was proud that she had been able to carry on the family tradition of planning not only what she herself would enjoy but also for the future, for her successors. She and her forebears had always known and understood that this sort of landscape, whose noblest feature was the plantations of trees, was only achieved through the devotion of several generations. To see the effect that was then planned one had to wait at least half a century, and so Countess Roza’s pride in what had been so
unselfishly
achieved was only natural.

While his mother and their guest strolled down to the horseshoe court where the carriage was waiting for them Balint took Gazsi straight to the rose gardens which had been laid out on the
terrace
in front of the north side of the castle. From there they only had to descend a double flight of stone steps to find themselves on a wide path leading through the park which was bordered on
each side by plantations of native oak trees whose tall straight trunks and pointed crowns always reminded visitors of cypresses. Here they waited for a minute or two while the carriage was
driven
in a wide semi-circle to cross the first bridge over the river. A few hundred paces in front of them was the millstream, and in the meadows beyond they could see mares and their offspring through the mostly bare branches of the intervening trees.

For a few moments they walked on slowly without speaking. Finally Balint said: ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about everything you told me yesterday. I’m sure that your trouble is that you’re too much alone at Bukkos. You think too much, and then you start brooding! You ought to get married …’

‘The Devil I should!’ exclaimed Gazsi with an angry wave of his hand.

‘I mean it!’ said Balint. ‘If you got married you’d see everything in quite a different light … and you’d have little Kadacsays you could bring up in whatever way you wanted.’

‘Devil take it,’ repeated Gazsi and paused. Then, a little later, he said, ‘I could never cope with a girl of our class, you know, I’m … well … I’m, I’m too much of a peasant myself. Some
little
maidservant, perhaps, from time to time, that’s my style, if you like … but some over-r-r-refined young
comtesse
; no thank you! Anyhow I’m such a clod that there’s no one of that sort who’d ever want to marry
me
!’

‘Oh yes, there is; plenty of them. What about Ida Laczok? She’s been pining for you for years. She’d marry you tomorrow if you asked her,’ said Balint and then went on to say what a nice, clever and simple girl she was and, just as an added bait, how everyone knew she had always been in love with him.

‘The Devil she is!’ said Gazsi once more, but with less disbelief than before.

‘It’s true! Ever since the ball at Var-Siklod – don’t you
remember
? She’d be just right for you. Pretty, healthy, very competent in the house too. You know her mother relies on her, not on the others. She’s the right age and what’s more she’s no one’s fool.’

This time Gazsi made no answer at once but looked unusually thoughtful. Then he said, ‘Perhaps you’re right … but … Bah! Who knows?’

Then they talked of other things.

Countess Roza’s visit to the brood mares lasted for some time because she took the opportunity to tell her guest everything
there was to know about each and everyone of the twenty-four mares and their pedigrees and offspring. Her discourse was long and detailed, and, to anyone interested in breeding horses,
extremely
informative, because she knew what she was talking about and had had many years’ experience.

One of her most interesting theories was about the
transmission
, not only of build but also of character and temperament, and how to ensure its continuity in a breeding programme. After a while she drove off with Kozma to show him more of the estate while Balint and Gazsi walked up to the pine woods that covered the highest part of the parkland.

By the time they got to the top of the hill the afternoon light was already beginning to fade to a uniform greyness. They had arrived just where one of Balint’s ancestors had had built a little classical pavilion or summer-house which consisted of little more than a domed roof supported by stone columns. It was surrounded by some of the oldest pine-trees in the park and before it stretched a wide clearing bordered by plantations of different specimens of rare trees. At the bottom of the hill there wound the path they had ridden along that morning and beyond it could be seen the castle’s walls with, above them, the conical roofs which capped the corner towers. The old stonework was etched in deep violet against the pale evening sky and the patina on the copper casing on the roofs no longer shone green but seemed black against the saffron-yellow of the sunset.

They sat down, even though it was starting to get cold.

‘What a wonderful place this is,’ said Gazsi. ‘I’ve never been here before.’

They sat in silence for a little while. Then, though without knowing what train of thought led him to the subject, unless it was the contrast between the beauty and richness of Denestornya and the squalor and unhappiness he had recently witnessed, he said suddenly, ‘I saw Laci the other day, poor fellow!’

‘Really? Where? When?’ asked Balint eagerly.

‘Just the other day … when I was coming back from Szilagy.’

For a moment Gazsi said no more. Then he related how he had been passing through Kozard and that, in front of a largish peasant’s house on the right-hand side of the road, he had seen Laszlo Gyeroffy sitting on a broken-down garden chair. It was only just as he was driving past that he had realized who it was and, as it had taken a moment or two to make the coachman
understand what he wanted, he had already been driven well past the house before he had been able to stop and get out. Then he had had to walk back, past some empty land, to reach the place where he had seen Laszlo. As he had nearly got close enough to call out a greeting Laszlo had got up, turned away from him and slipped quickly into the house.

‘I didn’t know what to do. Should I go in after him … or just go away again? I’m such an ass in this sort of thing. Well, I just tur-r-rned on my heel and left. What else was there to do? He saw me coming, so I r-r-reckoned that if he went in it must be because he didn’t want to see me.’

‘How did he look? How was he?’

‘I think he looked thinner, but I can’t be sure. There was a fence between us, and a little fr-r-ront gar-r-rden … you know what those houses are like. I just looked up the path, but all I could see was a bottle and a glass beside the chair. He must have been sitting there dr-r-rinking. When he went in I saw him clutching the door-r-rpost and thought that per-r-rhaps he was ashamed for me to see him dr-r-runk. That’s why I didn’t go in … per-r-rhaps it was stupid of me. I’m sor-r-ry now I didn’t
follow
him.’

‘I haven’t had any news for ages,’ said Balint. ‘I wrote a couple of times last summer, but I never got any reply.’

Then he told Gazsi all that he did know, which was simply that he had heard that Laszlo had sold his property, but that he still lived there in an old servant’s house he had kept. On his mother’s behalf Balint had written to Laszlo offering him a home at Denestornya, either in a separate suite on the first floor or else in his grandfather’s old manor-house close by; but they had never had any answer. No doubt this was the way Laszlo wanted it for perhaps he had thought that he wouldn’t be free to drink as he pleased.

‘You remember Azbej, my mother’s old estate manager? It was he that bought Kozard from Laszlo. He says he gives Laci some sort of annuity, but I don’t know how much. I am not in touch with Azbej any more,’ he added dryly.

For a few more moments they sat there together, not speaking but both of them thinking about Laszlo’s sad life. Then Abady got up.

‘Come along,’ he said. ‘My mother will be waiting for us for tea.’

Together they walked silently down the hill. When they had
almost reached the castle Kadacsay looked at Balint and said, ‘You know I really do feel sorry for poor Laci … but at least he’s lucky to have something to care for, even if it is only the dr-
r-rink
!’

Before dinner Balint carried Aron Kozma off to discuss with him various matters to do with the Co-operatives. Aron himself had some ideas for which he wanted Balint’s approval; and there were certain proposals that Balint put forward which he did not think were feasible. Aron had a logical mind and was full of
common
sense, and from that short discussion there emerged some straightforward practical measures from all the somewhat
nebulous
ideas that had been spinning round in Balint’s head since his reunion with Adrienne.