They Were Counted (42 page)

Dodo was given up at once: there was no time for a
long-drawn
-out pursuit. Only two possibilities remained. The first was Judith Miloth, and the other was a widow of over thirty whom he had met on a train. There had been an answering sparkle in Mme Bogdan Lazar’s eyes when he had first made her acquaintance by helping with her luggage, and he had soon learnt that she had a handsome property near Apahida. However it seemed that Judith would be the best bet so he would start with her. If that failed there would be plenty of time to go after the widow.

This was Egon Wickwitz’s plan when he came back at
Kolozsvar
. Without delay he started his pursuit of Judith and sensing that Judith would not be impressed by the more usual tactics of the confident male wooer, he opened his campaign not with words – speech was not his strongest point – but with half
suppressed
sighs, long covert looks from sad spaniel’s eyes and
mysterious
silences. He played the part of the good-hearted rather stupid man, whose noble heart would perish if it found no mercy, and who was the slave of a passion he hardly dared admit, let alone express. Indeed he played it extremely well, for he was not
naturally
a bad man and had he been born to a fortune would probably never have found himself reduced to such a devious course.

By the end of the season he began to feel that he was making progress and that, as any trainer of horses might say, the filly was ready for her first race.

All through the Mardi Gras Ball he waited for the opportunity to present itself, and, finally, as dawn was about to break, he managed to get Judith alone with him in a small room off the drawing-room. For a little while they talked, he hesitantly,
pausing
as if he did not quite know, or dare to say, what was in his mind. Then suddenly, after he had made quite sure that no one could see them, he took Judith in his arms and kissed her
passionately
on the mouth.

Everything went as he had planned. Judith made no resistance. It was as if she had expected just this. Then, as suddenly as he had begun the kiss, Wickwitz released her and stepped back.

‘I’m sorry! I’m a swine!’ he muttered.

‘But why? I love you too!’ replied the girl, breathless from their kiss.

‘But I shouldn’t have. I’m a swine –
ein
Schwein!
Ein
miserables
Schwein!
– a miserable swine! I can’t ask you to marry me!’

‘Why not, if we love each other?’

‘I can’t! It’s impossible. I won’t even ask you, I’m not worth it… I’m a scoundrel to have gone so far. Anyhow it’s the end for me. Tomorrow I’ll go away … for ever. I have to go anyway, and I’ll not come back. I can’t go on. This is the reason why, just once, I allowed myself… I had to tell you I loved you, if only just once!’

‘But why, if I love you too?’ cried Judith. Then she shrugged and said, smiling: ‘I always knew you had no money. Neither have I, now, and won’t have until much later. We’ll manage somehow. Papa will let me have the marriage portion and then…’

Wickwitz allowed himself a sad smile. ‘This is nothing but an impossible dream! It would be wonderful, but you don’t
understand
. You don’t know. I’m a doomed man … I can’t escape what’s coming to me …’

‘But you can tell me, Egon. Just tell me what’s the matter! What is it that threatens you? Why you are in such despair! You know I’d do anything to help. It would be a joy to me!’ And she took his hand and pressed it to her heart.

‘How good you are, much too good for me,’ said Wickwitz sadly. ‘I’m so ashamed. It’s so difficult to tell you because you’ll despise me.’

At this point Judith had to go as they were calling for her.
Seeing
that Margit was coming for her Judith had quickly
whispered
: ‘Tomorrow! We’ll have supper together and you must tell me everything! Everything, you understand, everything!’

This is what had happened on the previous evening. Now at supper, with the music playing loudly, they did not have to
whisper
as no one could hear what they were saying. So as to approach the subject slowly, Egon spoke first of his mother, of how poor they were. Then he told Judith of his debts and of the scene with his colonel and how his whole career would be at stake if he couldn’t raise some money to clear himself of this burden. Some aspects of the tale he embellished, others he suppressed, but he
admitted
at once that his first plan had been to try and marry Dodo and that if he had been able to force himself to go through with it he would already be her husband with all his problems solved. This would have changed everything and he would not have found himself placed in the horrible situation he was now in. But he couldn’t do it … Instead he had fallen in love with Judith. That had been his doom, and looked like being his ruin. For him this was the end of the road. Wickwitz spoke slowly, with many pauses, hesitating as if he searched for the right words with which to explain himself, his face expressionless, his large brown eyes full of sad hopelessness. From time to time he broke off a crust of bread and ate a morsel, or sipped at his glass before going on with his tale. Anyone who could not hear his words, would have thought he was speaking of nothing more personal than the last race he had run or the problems of training horses. It was more difficult for Judith.

While taking in every word he said she somehow managed not to show any signs of emotion. She too ate little, and though she often glanced round the room so as to give the impression that she was merely chatting idly while being more interested in what else might be going on around her, her heart was beating ever
faster
as she became more and more involved in what Wickwitz was telling her.

Finally, explained Egon, in despair lest he lose his commission and with it any chance of seeing Judith again, he had done a most shameful, dishonourable thing: he had persuaded Dinora to
guarantee
his bank drafts. He had only done it so that, by getting hold of some ready money, he would be able to stay in the army and not dishonour his name. ‘Now you despise me, don’t you?’ he said, looking deeply into her eyes.

‘No!’ she said. ‘No. I understand.’

Wickwitz breathed again; she had passed the first test. When Judith did not seem to react at the mention of Dinora he knew that all was well. It was like the first fence in the competition ring; once over that he was confident he would have no difficulty at the wall or the water-jump. He begged Judith not to tell anyone, not ever to admit that she knew the truth. He was done for, of course. There was no way he could escape the inevitable dishonour that would come to him if his actions became known, as become known they must. And when they did he would kill himself rather than live without honour, a scoundrel rejected by everyone.

‘So you see why you can’t take such an outcast as a husband!’ he said, still with the same wooden expression even though
inwardly
he was smiling confidently, for he now knew that
everything
was going to plan.

 

When dinner was over they all started back to the ballroom. Just as Abady and Dodo were passing through the doorway they heard the church clock strike ten, the same chimes that Adrienne could hear in the silence of her room.

As they reached the foot of the staircase where early that
morning
Balint had kissed Adrienne’s palm and where, for a moment, he had become dazed with happiness, Balint felt a stab at his heart. What a bitch she is, he thought, sitting in her room now, laughing at him, triumphing, rejoicing that she had made him suffer! But he wouldn’t give her that satisfaction, he would enjoy himself as never before! He would dance and dance and drink plenty of champagne … and someone was sure to tell her so she would know her little plan had not worked! Accordingly he took Dodo straight out on to the dance floor and there executed a csardas with such abandon and skill that even old Ambrus, who prided himself on his dash and expertise, applauded him as a worthy successor.

 

The csardas was followed by a long waltz and that by a quadrille and another waltz. All the time Adrienne’s father, Count Akos, was having the time of his life despite his protestations that he had come against his will. The mothers, who usually spent the evening dozing in their chairs or languidly exchanging gossip,
listened
avidly to his tales of the Garibaldi campaign and the old count, happy to have found a new and eager audience, waxed so eloquent and was so amusing that he had all the older ladies in fits of laughter. They all agreed that he was far better value than Daniel Kendy, who usually entertained them until he got too tipsy to go on.

Rattle’s triumph reached its peak when, towards dawn, they struck up an
écossaise
which, with the Lancers, had been the most popular dance when he was young and had organized the
Carnival
balls. Becoming very excited, he herded everyone in the
drawing
-room onto the dance floor and then burst into the
card-room
where Uncle Ambrus was busily engaged in emptying the younger men’s pockets.

‘
Ecossaise
!’
he roared. ‘Come on, my boys, all of you on your feet! This is no time for stupid cards!’

‘Still rutting, are you, you old lecher?’ said Ambrus, concealing with a roar of laughter his anger at having such a profitable game interrupted. Turning back to the table, he said: ‘Well? Who’s in the game? All right, I’ll raise it a hundred and sixty crowns! What? Nobody wants to see me? What a lousy lot of cowards you are!’ And he scooped up all the chips on the table. But, though he
immediately
dealt another hand, the zest had gone out of the game. The young men had had enough of being bullied into losing money and even Uncle Ambrus was unable to outshout old Rattle, who soon got them all on their feet and back into the ballroom.

Akos Alvinczy, who lost more than most, lingered behind the others. ‘Do you mind waiting?’ he said to Ambrus. ‘I’m a bit short at the moment …’

‘Of course, of course!’ said Uncle Ambrus, patting the tall young man on the shoulder. ‘Take a couple of weeks! I’ll wait that long, but no longer, mind! Then you must pay up, young fellow. I don’t lay golden eggs, you know!’ And, laughing in high good humour, he gave Akos a friendly punch on the arm and stumped off.

Akos stayed where he was for a moment, his handsome face clouded with worry.

Back in the ballroom the dancers had formed up for the
é
cossaise
and the dance was just starting when Rattle burst into the line, shouting: ‘Not like that! That’s not how you do it! You, young man! Let me show you!’, and seizing little Ida Laczok from Baron Gazsi’s arms he whirled her round the floor. ‘Right … Left … Right … Left …!’ and, with surprising agility for a man of his age, bounded about like a balloon with his niece on his arm. Then, leaving Ida at the end of a row of girls, he ran back to the two couples at the head of the set, showed them what they ought to be doing, made them do it again, sent them on their way,
repeated
the manoeuvre with the next two pairs, correcting errors, pulling, pushing and prancing about until everything was to his satisfaction. Then he made sure that the next figures were done right, now shouting: ‘La Coquette! Do the Coquette! Do La Souris!’ now clapping and bowing and waving encouragement. It was years since the humorous old dance had been given such life and, when it ended, he embraced his little niece with a huge
bear-hug
, the sweat from his black moustache dripping on to her cheeks. If little Ida was none too pleased, the same could not be said for old Akos Miloth who was happier than he had been for years.
Panting
heavily he collapsed into a chair beside Countess Kamuthy and, as soon as he had got his breath back, started again: ‘Do you remember, dear Aniko, how in our day…’