They Were Divided (22 page)

At this point she was saying, ‘My dears, it is quite clear. The
law says that such persons must not only be locked up but also condemned to five years’ hard labour. I know for a fact that the police have already put out a search for the little whore’s birth certificate and that her old clay-digging father, who sold the child to him, is already in custody.’

Countess Ida, who never thought or spoke ill of anyone and who found herself forced to listen only because she could find no excuse to move away, now started to close her ears from boredom and looked round the room to find some distraction. And the first person she saw was her brother-in-law himself, standing quite close and clearly able to hear everything that was being said.

There he was, the spitting image of her husband Jeno, if
perhaps
not quite so plump. He had the same Tartar features with a single tuft of hair on his otherwise bald pate. With his slanting eyes almost buried in folds of fat, with his wide-spread eyebrows which gave him the air of perpetual enquiry, he resembled more than anything one of those soapstone figurines to be found in oriental bazaars. In this he was even more like than his brother Jeno, for while the latter sported only a pair of imposing
moustaches
, Tamas also wore a long thin beard twisted to the shape of a lyre. He stood there, just in front of Ida, quite straight on his shortish legs, with his hands in his pockets, smiling up at her.

‘Tamas!’ she cried out in surprise. ‘Where on earth did you spring from?’

‘
Servus
– greetings!’ he replied.

Everyone looked round, and Aunt Lizinka choked in mid-
sentence
. Then she too stammered out, ‘You? You here? You! How did you get in here?’

‘Because, my dear aunt, I am still at liberty to go where I please!
J’ai
voulu
vous
tranquilliser
à
ce
sujet
–
I just wanted to
reassure
you about that!’ and he mounted the platform, pulled up a chair and sat down beaming all around him in good-fellowship and high good humour.

Faced with such a
fait-accompli
there was nothing that the others could do. Then Tamas turned to Baroness Weissfeld and, carefully choosing his words, slowfully said, ‘Not everyone gets to prison who deserves it, as your good husband must know.’ Then he turned to Ida and went on, ‘How is my brother? I heard he was suffering from a slight Thief’s Cold.’ After this, with the others speechless, he addressed himself directly to old Countess Sarmasaghy.

‘My dear aunt, have you heard of my latest troubles? Oh,
nothing to do with that tale about the gypsy girl, nothing
whatever
. No, it is all because my second foreman has just got himself sent to gaol for slander. It’s really been most annoying for he was such a good worker and I don’t know how I’ll manage
without
him. The fool said something scandalous about the head
foreman
and as he said it in front of several of his work-mates, one of them denounced him and the idiot found himself hauled before the court. Three witnesses swore that they had heard the slander and the judge believed them, saying that there was little he could have done if only one man had spoken but that three he was bound to believe. What an idiot the fellow was to spread slander in front of three other people!’ and he gestured towards his sister-in-law, Countess Kamuthy and Baroness Weissfeld. ‘They shut him up, my dear aunt, and you can imagine the trouble that has caused.’

For a moment or two he paused, a wicked look in his eyes as he looked at each of the ladies in turn. Then he rose and said, ‘Well! As I’m here I might as well have a look round.
Ma
chère
tante, je
me
prosterne
devant
votre
bienveillante
attention
–
my dear aunt, I submit myself to your ever-vigilant goodwill.’

Then he bowed and went on his way.

As soon as he had left all three women rose hurriedly and fled in different directions, and Aunt Lizinka was left to suffocate in her own venom.

Farkas Alvinczy, who had been the previous dance leader, and a Member of Parliament until the year before, stood in a small doorway behind the gypsy musicians. To emphasize the fact that he was not really attending the ball he had come dressed not in evening dress but in ordinary day clothes. This was to show everyone that he had now renounced the frivolous pleasures of the world. It was his pose that a man like him with a brilliant past, who had been the envy of all other men and the favourite of the most beautiful women in Budapest, who had been an eminent servant of the state and a prominent politician, would now choose to withdraw from society rather than take second place in such provincial revels. How could he, who had tasted every pleasure the world had to offer, now be seen courting the attention of a group of dowdy country-women? Naturally he had not said this to anyone, but his air of mysterious superiority just tinged with melancholy spoke only too clearly for him.

And yet it really was nothing but a pose. It was true that he had been a Member of Parliament, but he had had nothing to
say. While in Budapest he had had no more social success than many other good-looking young men, and like other good-
looking
young men he had had neither more nor fewer adventures with women than had the others. But he had tried to lead the life he imagined and he had even begun to believe it himself to the point at which he now suffered as much as if it had been true. Since he had lost his seat at the last elections he had stopped going out in society and had gone out only to gamble the night away. During the daytime he had slept. He no longer went with the others to sing and dance with the gypsies and it had begun to be whispered that he had become a heavy but secret drinker. Looking at his puffy face and watery eyes people had begun to guess that the rumours were only too true. Still, even if he had started to run slightly to fat he was still exceptionally good-
looking
.

Young Ida Laczok caught sight of him from across the room and at once said to herself that he would do for her. Since Gazsi Kadacsay had so inexplicably faded out of her life, she would have accepted anyone who asked her, for by now both her sisters were married and she was the only one still single.

Stopping her dancing partner as they waltzed by the gypsy band, she bowed to him and went over and stood near Farkas. He in his turn stepped up to her and they shook hands just behind the double-bass.

‘What are you doing with yourself these days?’ she asked. ‘It is nice to see you again,’ she went on with a sparkle of
encouragement
in her eyes. ‘You can’t imagine how much we miss you.’

Farkas made a somewhat disdainful gesture and said in a bored voice, ‘I just wanted to see how the Garazda Boy was
making
out. I must say he seems to be doing quite well. He’s a clever lad so I expect he’ll learn.’

‘Oh, but it isn’t at all the same as when you did it!’ said Ida in a flattering tone and went on with several remarks in the same vein.

Shortly afterwards they were joined by Margit.

‘Have you seen Adam?’ she asked her brother-in-law. ‘He disappeared ages ago. Is he in the card-room? Were you there?’ and her voice held an unusually stern and demanding note.

‘I was there all right, gambling if you want to know,’ Farkas replied bitterly, ‘but whether Adam was or not I really can’t say, and I don’t care. I’m not one to spy on others: they can do what they like for all I care!’

This was intended as a gibe at Margit, for all three of Adam’s brothers resented the young woman who had captured him. They were also afraid of her for they knew they could not compete with her practical brain and strong will. Even so Farkas would not have dared to speak to her like that if they had been alone.

Margit raised her little beak-like nose and looked up at her tall brother-in-law’s face. Then, with the shadow of a smile, she said, quite calmly, ‘In that case I’ll go and look for him myself!’ Then she turned and walked swiftly away.

Margit stepped out into the corridor. There she hesitated for a moment or two not knowing which of the four double doors led to the card-room. Then a waiter appeared carrying an ice-bucket and opened the third door. Margit followed him for she had heard the booming voice of Uncle Ambrus saying, ‘Come on, me lad, shell it out! We don’t play for peanuts here, you know. The bank is sixteen hundred. Who wants it?’

Margit looked around her.

The room was one of the hotel’s grand sitting-rooms, but the furniture had been pushed to the walls to make way for a large baize-covered table that had been placed directly under the
crystal
chandelier. It was surrounded by eight cane chairs for the players, but her husband Adam was not among them. She saw Akos, his youngest brother, but it was only later that she
remembered
how deathly pale he had looked. She was about to leave the room when she caught sight of her husband. He was lying in a gilt armchair just behind where she was standing. His long legs were stretched out in front of him and he was fast asleep. He was sleeping so soundly that his mouth was slightly open like a young child’s and on his face was an expression of happiness and content. He was asleep out of sheer exhaustion, for although since his marriage he had never once gone out carousing with his friends, he had spent all the previous night carrying his
newborn
baby about who was suffering from colic and who started crying again every time Adam put him down. He adored his son and fussed over him like any nanny.

Margit moved silently over to her husband and ever so gently started to caress his forehead. Still half asleep Adam reached for her hand and brushing it across his face started to kiss her arm just as he might have if they were in bed at night. He did not try to open his eyes, imagining that that was just where they were.

It must have been a familiar movement for Margit broke out
in soft giggles. Still, she had to see that Adam was properly awake.

‘Anna Laczok, Countess Harinay, doesn’t have a dinner
partner
. I told her you’d sent me to ask her for you. But it would be nice if you’d go and ask her yourself, just to be polite, you know. The dinner will be served in half an hour and it wouldn’t look right to wait until the last minute.’

Adam jumped up. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I’ll go at once.’

As they moved away little Margit looked up at the great height of her husband and said, ‘I hope you’re pleased I got you such a pretty partner. You can’t accuse me of being a jealous wife!’

‘Why ever should you be?’ he answered good-naturedly and they walked hand in hand out of the card-room, their steps matching each other exactly as the steps do of those who have a total understanding of each other. And although there was no one to see them in the deserted corridor the two of them, linked by their intertwined hands, made a picture of perfect happiness.

Tamas Laczok, having had his fun with Aunt Lizinka, went to look for his brother and Weissfeld. After all, he said to himself, he had gone to a lot of trouble and expense – ten crowns, no less! – to get to the ball so now he might as well see that he got his money’s worth, and that meant teasing the others as well. He went in search of the smoking-room.