Forever (30 page)

'Cats,' Madame Balasz said, 'such marvellous
animals! So graceful and affectionate, and yei so aloof and
independent. Take Aida here.' She regarded the cat on her lap with
particular affection. 'She looks like a princess, does she not? And
Othello there.' She nodded at her feet, it is not difficult to see
why the Egyptians worshipped them.' She watched Stephanie closely
from between her spidery lashes, 'It is said that they have nine
lives and that curiosity kills them. But then, curiosity can kill
any of us, don't you think?'

Stephanie wondered if she should construe
this as some kind of warning, or at least a hint? She really had no
way of knowing. It was, she considered, most likely just part and
parcel of Madame Balasz's ongoing repertoire - nothing more than a
morsel dropped while flitting from one subject to another. She had
been at it for over three hours already, filling Stephanie's mind
with all sorts of fascinating details, stories, and bits and pieces
of information.

Like how the tunic she was wearing was the
one she had worn onstage during her very last performance as the
Marschallin in Der Rosenkavalier.

Or how she had once had a lover who nibbled
her ear with such abandon that he had swallowed her pearl earring,
and how they'd had to wait three entire days for it to pass.

And about the time she had been dining alone
in a restaurant, and a total stranger at the next table had bitten
her neck. 'He was short and ugly, with eyes like a bug's. Can you
imagine! A hideous little thing looking like Peter Lorre jumping
up, biting you on your neck, and then running out?'

'Perhaps he thought of himself as a
vampire,' Stephanie suggested.

The old lady digested this in silence and
then nodded her head thoughtfully. 'Perhaps you are right.
Transylvania is not far from here, you know.'

'Just east of the Hungarian border,'
Stephanie said gravely.

Madame Balasz momentarily stopped stroking
the cat and wagged an admonishing finger. 'Now you are making fun.
You think it is all legend. But vampires really do exist.'

'Of course they do.'

The old lady shook her head. 'No. You are
not a true believer. You are only humouring me.'

'Believe me,' Stephanie said. 'I'm not that
stupid. Vampires are based on historical fact. Vlad the Impaler;
the cannibals of Melanesia and their cannibal spirit. Qasavara;
Santeria; voodoo . . . they all incorporate vampirism. Even, to an
extent, the Catholic church. "Take this and eat, for this is my
body, take this and drink, for this is my blood ..." Depending upon
which way you wish to interpret it, that, too, could be construed
as . . . well . . . as vampirism of a sort. Mm?'

'True.' Madame Balasz nodded and then
smiled. 'You know, being bitten . . . under different circumstances
. . . and by an attractive man ... it could be quite sensuous,
don't you think?'

Stephanie didn't know quite what to think,
so she prudently kept her mouth shut. She had a sip of wine.

'Now then,' the old lady said, continuing to
stroke the purring black fluff on her lap, 'to get back to the
subject you are most interested in. Lili.'

Stephanie smiled. 'Don't tell me she was a
vampire.'

Madame Balasz did not return her smile.
'Lili, you know, was fascinated by stories of the vampires.'

'Really? But why?'

Madame Balasz sighed. 'Lili,' she said,
'absolutely abhorred the very idea of ageing and death. You see, Ms
Smith, it was her dream to live forever.'

'Really?' Stephanie's voice was hushed. ' as
she searching for the fountain of youth, then?'

The chic old woman in her Marschallin tunic
sat back and smiled. She tilted her head and regarded Stephanie.
'Aren't we all? Think about it. Can you name anyone who, by choice,
wishes to grow old and decrepit; to wither and die?'

Stephanie shook her head.

'
Igen
. And Lili had more reason than
anyone to want to find the secret of eternal youth. Consider, for a
moment, how tragic her early life was. Death and ageing surrounded
her.'

'I know.' Stephanie nodded. 'First her
father dying when she was so young . . . and her sister, Liselotte,
being born a geromorph . . . '

'A tragedy, that! Enough to chill one's
blood!
Igen
. I knew Liselotte, the poor thing. It was
impossible to believe she could be Lili and Louisette's sister. She
. . . she looked like the girls' grandmother! Imagine. And so
young!' Madame Balasz shuddered at the memory, clutching her tunic
at the neck, as though she felt a sudden chill. The cat on her lap
opened its eyes and mewed plaintively. 'There, there my sweet,' she
soothed. 'There . . . ' She stroked it until it purred contentedly
once again. 'You see how sensitive they are, the cats?'

'Yes. Almost as if they are telepathic.'

'Oh, they are, they are. Aida here
especially,
Igen
.' Madame nodded and then sighed. 'I take it
there is still no cure for the terrible disease from which
Liselotte suffered?'

'I don't believe so.' Stephanie's voice was
thoughtful. 'It must have affected Lili deeply, seeing her sister
turning old so quickly.'

Igen, igen
. That it did.' The old
lady shook her head pityingly. 'And then to think that that tragedy
had to be compounded by yet more tragedy!'

'You mean the railroad disaster.'

'It occurred north of here, at a bend in the
Danube.' Madame Balasz nodded and made sympathetic clucking noises
with her tongue. 'It proves one must never underestimate gypsy
curses.'

'Why?' Stephanie stared intently at her.
'Was there a curse on the Bielfeld family?'

'Nem tudom
. Who can tell? But it
certainly appears that there was. Curses should never be taken
lightly, you see. The gypsies of the Romany tribes are a species
all their own.
Igen
. Many of them practise arcane rituals
and possess strange devilish powers. They don't hesitate to use
them, and will, at the drop of a hat. Quite frightening.'

'Have you ever known anyone who really was
cursed?'

'Indeed: an aunt of mine in Mateszalka. It
happened when she ran some tinkers off her property. She did not
take it seriously, their curse, and laughed it off. But within a
year she became dreadfully ill and wasted away until she looked
like death. When they put her in hospital, the doctors opened her
up and sewed her right back up again. She was dead of the cancer
within two weeks. In the end, she believed the curse, but it was
too late by then. A pity. I liked her very much.'

'Perhaps,' Stephanie suggested, 'she had the
cancer already.'

'Perhaps.' As she stroked the cat, she
shrugged, this old lady with the startlingly smooth mask of a face
held in place by the thick rubber band. 'And perhaps the gypsy
could see the cancer in my aunt, and used what he saw to frighten
her. Who can tell? They do see things, the gypsies. They can read
minds, even the future.'

Stephanie remembered a segment of
Half
Hour
she'd once devoted to psychics and ESP. 'I saw a
mind-reader once. It was amazing. I wrote down random words, and
chose colours, and he could tell exactly what they were from
another room. He could also use his mind to bend spoons and make
objects move. Not that he could fling them about, but they . . .
crept ... a few centimetres. Of their own volition.'

'Igen, igen
.' Madame Balasz nodded as
though it was an everyday occurrence. She had a sip of wine. 'Then
you will understand about the time, shortly before Liselotte's
death, that Lili took her to see a gypsy whose hands were said to
have healing powers. This was after all the doctors and specialists
had given up, you must understand. They asked me to go with them,
and I did. Louisette stayed at home. She was always a little
superstitious, and gypsies frightened her. Not that I can really
blame her. Some of them can be very intimidating. Yes. They are a
violent, passionate people, and their arcane gifts are part of
their nature. Also, Louisette was one of those who did not want to
see what lay in her future. Some more wine?'

'No, thank you, I still have some.'

Madame Balasz asked: 'Have you seen any
gypsies since your arrival?'

'Not that I know of.'

'Ah, then it is imperative that you do so.
They are not to be missed. Go to the horse markets. You will find
them there. A swarthy people, some of whom can be highly
attractive, especially the young! Ah! Girls dressed in rainbow silk
and wearing so much gold jewellery they make tinkly music when they
walk, as if they were living, breathing wind chimes. And the boys!
So handsome they can break your heart. Dark, mysterious, all
flashing black eyes and gleaming white teeth, with features which
could have been carved by a master sculptor. But so quick and lithe
on their feet! Really. TTiere is something marvellously free about
them.'

'Perhaps it's due to their.nomadic
existence.'

'Nem tudom
. You are probably right.
Have you ever had your fortune read?'

'No. Once or twice I was tempted, but in the
end I decided against it.'

Madame narrowed her eyes and it was like two
spiders drawing their legs together. 'Perhaps it is just as well.
Knowing too much can be as dangerous as knowing too little.' She
nodded.

'Besides which,' Stephanie said, 'there are
too many charlatans who claim to be seers.'

'That, unfortunately, is very true.
Igen
. Even here, where gypsies are abundant, there are many
fakes who "read" palms or "gaze" into crystal balls. It is easy to
be deceived. One must be very careful.'

'Yes. I will keep that in mind.'

'Now, about this gypsy with the healing
powers. She was Romanian; all the very best gypsies are, you know.
A lovely woman, with beautiful features. Cheekbones so hollow, like
this.' She sucked in her cheeks to demonstrate. 'She should have
been a film star. A camera would have loved her. Naturally, since
this was a gypsy camp, we were prepared and clutched our wallets
and purses tightly and wore none of the little jewellery which we
owned. You see, gypsies are notorious thieves, although I do
believe those stories are quite . . . how do you say? Too
much?'

'Exaggerated.'

'Ah, yes. Exaggerated.' She said it as if
she was tasting the word on her tongue. 'But this beautiful gypsy:
I could instantly tell she was one who could see into the future.
"You will be alone with one other who is not here," she told Lili.
Those were her precise words: "You will be alone with one other . .
. and as for you", she told Liselotte, "I cannot heal you, nor can
anyone else. But take heart, child. Soon you will need suffer no
more. You shall pass to the other side, where everything and
everyone is beautiful".' Madame Balasz's eyes gleamed darkly. 'And
she was right, wasn't she?'

Stephanie blinked.

'The train wreck!' Madame Balasz hissed. 'Do
you not see? It occurred the following week!'

'Oh. Yes, I ... I do see.' Stephanie felt
strangely disquieted. All this disturbing talk of vampires and
geromorphs, healers and curses, had suddenly ceased to be
fascinating. The deceptively serene Danube view, the lengthening
afternoon shadows, and the very fact that she was in Eastern
Europe, land of strange myths and stranger legends ... it was as if
she were mired in a dream which had taken a turn she didn't much
care for - but was unable to wake up from.

'Now for the most surprising part. Do you
know who the gypsy was truly drawn to? I myself was
flabbergasted.'

'Who?' Stephanie felt it only polite to
ask.

'Not poor Liselotte, which is why we had
gone to see her in the first place.
Nem
. It was to Lili that
the gypsy gravitated! I remember she told her, "I know your wish is
to live forever". Imagine! She had never even met Lili. Nor had she
ever laid eyes on any one of us. It was truly frightening. I wanted
to flee, but despite myself, I was fascinated. And then I heard her
tell Lili: "The secret you search for exists, and if anyone finds
it, it shall be you. Then, for years, you may bloom with the beauty
of everlasting youth. But beware, my child! Beware! In the end, all
living things must rest at peace." Such cryptic words! For the
longest time, I myself did not understand what she was telling
Lili. But then, years later, I was enlightened by what I saw. You
see, my own eyes could not deceive me.'

'If you'll pardon my saying so,' Stephanie
interrupted politely, 'I'm slightly confused.'

'I shall explain.' With a flutter, a sparrow
landed on the balcony next door and began to chirp. On Madame's
lap, Aida's sleepy yellow eyes opened, but the regal cat remained
quiet as its mistress's gloved hand continued to stroke gently.

'Ah! Just listen!' The old lady tilted her
head and smiled. 'Do you hear how marvellously it sings? How joyful
it is to be alive?'

'Yes. It's quite beautiful.'

'The bird reminds me: Lili and I, though we
studied separately, had the same teacher. Did you know that?'

'You mean Madame Szekely?'

'Igen
.' Madame Balasz nodded. 'Also,
we attended the Franz Liszt Academy together. I remember one day in
particular. Madame Szekely had arranged for Lili and me to sing
together. Do you know Le Rossignol? The Nightingale, by
Delibes?'

Stephanie shook her head.

'A pity it is not performed more often: it
is achingly beautiful. Almost impossible to sing. You see, it calls
for just three instruments: flute, piano and mezzo-soprano. All
three must be virtuosos, you understand: the song demands it. On
this occasion, we had only the piano, which is the way Madame
Szekely had planned it. I sang the vocal part, and Lili sang the
part of the flute - without words, naturally, just vocal
intonations. It was exquisite. Exquisite! More heart-rending than
that sparrow . . .'