They Were Counted (46 page)

‘I swear it!’ said Wickwitz in a voice as brave and manly as he could make it. ‘But where will you be in Vienna?’

Before Judith could answer Zoltan had put his head round the door and whispered urgently: ‘Come quickly, Judith! Margit’s just called to ask if you were with me. Mama’s looking for you. You’d better go down quickly!’

As Egon and Judith exchanged another quick embrace, Margit’s voice could be heard in the distance calling out: ‘Yes, Mama, of course I’ve called her! She’s coming at once!’ and her voice faded away at the last words, showing that she had already started to descend the main stairway.

Judith quickly glided along the corridor to the head of the stairs where she looked back, just for an instant, as Zoltan was hurrying Egon back the way he had come.

‘Quickly now!’ hissed the boy, and Egon, tucking his sword
under
his arm, ran down the stairs and into the street. Once outside he straightened up, let his sword hang free, and with an
unmistakable
swagger walked back towards the centre of the town. Catching a glimpse of himself reflected in a shop window, he stopped for a moment to twirl his moustaches and admire the splendour of his own image.

 

Balint got home just as midday was striking. As he entered the main hall of the house he met one of his mother’s housekeepers coming out of the kitchen passage. This time it was not Mrs Baczo but Mrs Tothy, though as they were so alike it made no
difference
. Balint at once gave orders that no word should ever be
uttered
about the duel in his mother’s presence, even now that it was all over. He explained that everyone should know this lest the Countess should catch an unguarded word and be angry that no one, neither her son nor her servants, had told her what had happened.

‘Indeed! Of course!’ agreed Mrs Tothy, her chins wobbling. ‘God forbid that our Gracious Countess should hear a word of it! We’ve told the porter to warn all visitors to keep their mouths shut! Not a word, your Lordship, not a word!’

Balint started to go up to his room when the old woman came after him and said, ‘Your Lordship’s pardon, but is your Lordship wounded? We heard that there was a great gash in your
Lordship’s
arm! Four inches, they say!’

He laughed. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘it’s nothing. I don’t even need a sling!’ and he waved his arm about in proof of what he was saying. Nodding to the old woman, he went on upstairs, feeling rather annoyed that the whole town should know and gossip about this ridiculous affair. How they all loved to blow everything up way beyond its real importance. All he could feel was a slight prickling on his elbow, no more than a nettle sting; and they thought that worth talking about! Still, as he got nearer to his room he
reflected
that perhaps, after all, it did not really matter if the
rumours
about his being wounded were exaggerated, for they would be sure to reach Adrienne who would all the more
appreciate
his coming to her later that day.

 

There was a slight thaw in the air as Balint walked along the Monostor road that afternoon. Little rivulets of melting ice ran along the edge of the compacted snow on the road and down into the gutters that bordered the highway. The trees and rooftops were dripping and vapour seemed to hang in the mild air so that the snow-capped peaks of the Gyalu mountains that shone so
brilliantly
in the winter sunshine could no longer be seen in the milder weather that heralded the arrival of spring.

Balint turned into the villa’s entrance gates and went round the court towards the side door in the covered veranda. At the corner of the main house he met Pali Uzdy.

‘Well, well! Who do I see?’ said Uzdy in his usual dry mocking voice.

‘From a distance I thought it was Pityu Kendy! How are you? I hear you got somewhat cut up!’

‘Oh, it was nothing, nothing at all!’

‘Indeed? And Pityu? Did you leave him churning in blood?’

‘No more than me! Nothing to write home about!’ said Balint calmly. Uzdy laughed derisively.

‘These duels are absurd,’ he said. ‘All duels are absurd! What would happen if someone really got angry? All that ceremonial! Such rubbish! Nothing more than games for children! If I wanted to kill someone, I’d shoot him without a word! Bah! All that marching up and down, and taking aim, or choosing swords. Old fashioned nonsense!’ He pulled mockingly on his long moustache with his left hand while with his right he patted Balint on the shoulder. ‘You’d better go in,’ he said. ‘My wife’s at home, but I’m going to the Casino. You’ll forgive me?
Au
revoir
!’
Chuckling to himself he strode off, his head tilted back at its usual angle.

Adrienne’s maid was waiting near the door as if she knew that Count Abady was expected. When she saw him she came
forward
, took his hat and fur coat and galoshes and led him to the drawing-room. Adrienne looked up as he entered the room. This time she was half lying, half sitting on the pile of cushions in front of the blazing fire. As she looked up, only her head and the upper part of her body turned towards him. Her lips were parted and her
golden
eyes were alive with welcome. Balint stepped quickly across to her, knelt down on the thick rug and drew her to him, his mouth searching for hers. For a moment it seemed as if she might resist; but then she relented and gave him her mouth, though, as on the previous evening, she kept her lips tightly closed.

This time Balint was not prepared to accept so limited a
response
so with his mouth caressing her cheeks he whispered, ‘Not like that. Let me show you,’ and with his lips he gently and slowly parted hers until their two mouths clung together in a full
embrace
. At first he felt like a teacher, coaxing a willing but ignorant pupil, but soon desire so flooded him that all thought was wiped from his mind by the overpowering urge to possess her. The kiss did not last long for Adrienne soon opened her eyes, drew back her face from his and gave him an imploring look. Then she
buried
her face in his shoulder, as if hiding herself from him. When he started to kiss her neck, his lips moving over the skin below the hairline, she moved again, saying, ‘No, no! You mustn’t! No! Don’t do that!’ Then she put up her slim hand between his lips and her neck, as a barrier between them. For a moment she did not move, then she slowly pulled herself away from him. She said again: ‘No! Don’t! Don’t do that!’ Balint sat down near her on one of the other cushions trying to regain his calm, but the blood was pulsating so hard in his head that it was a long time before he could clear his thoughts. Finally it was Adrienne who spoke.

‘Tell me what happened this morning? I heard you were wounded on the arm! But where, and why don’t you have it in a sling?’

‘It was nothing! I didn’t even need a stitch, only a plaster.’

‘Tell me, all the same!’ she asked, drawing back timidly when he tried to kiss her again. Balint did not insist, for in her eyes he saw such an imploring look that he knew he must do nothing to break the spell that was being woven between them. It was as if they were just emerging from childhood and discovering for the first time that a game called love was played by grown-ups, a game that was enchanting but which could also be frightening in the revelation of the forces it released. Balint, sensing something of this in Adrienne, forced himself to be playful and lighthearted. In no time at all he had Adrienne laughing delightedly, sharing his fun with comradely amusement, which, if not exactly the
effect
he was after, at least proved that he had driven the tension from her.

The evening shadows fell and a maid came in to light the lamps. Then she left again to fetch the tea-tray. When she came back, Balint would not let her put it formally on the table but
insisted
that the tea things were placed beside them on the carpet in front of the fire. With fresh logs blazing in the fireplace, Adrienne smiled with girlish pleasure saying, as she buttered the toast, what fun it was, just like a picnic! Like two children they devoured the hot toast, the sweet fritters and little cakes that the maid had brought in. All feeling of passion had evaporated; they might have been in the nursery.

By now it was quite dark outside and their conversation,
formerly
so animated, languished until they spoke only in broken phrases. The desire that Balint had suppressed with such
determination
and self-denial, flared again within him. He wondered how he could kiss her again after being so gently but so firmly pushed away. Of course! It was simple: by saying goodbye! When he heard the church clock strike six, he started to get up, raising himself to his knees.

‘I must go now. May I come again tomorrow at the same time?’

‘Of course. I never go out in the afternoons.’

Abady put his arm round her waist to draw her to him, but once again she stiffened and tried to put away from his grasp, her hand on his wrist:

‘Don’t!’ she said. ‘Please don’t!’

‘You’re holding my bad arm,’ he said, ‘the wounded one!’ He spoke very softly, directly into her ear and at his words, as if
melting
to the gentle blackmail they implied, she abandoned her
resistance
and, obediently, like a good pupil, put her open mouth to his, eager to please though he could still sense a hint of resigned acceptance of the inevitable. Adrienne, while not totally
surrendering
to Balint’s embrace, felt herself almost swept away by the reassuring warmth of having his arms round her, and she felt
giddy
and breathless as when led in an intoxicating waltz by an
expert
partner.

Balint kissed her for a long time, more sure of himself now and slightly more demanding, though still holding himself back so as not to alarm her. By now the hand that rested on his shoulder did not attempt to push him away … but it did not draw him to her either. When he finally let her go and straightened up to take his leave, Adrienne gently touched his arm:

‘But don’t think, or expect … Don’t ask more of me … ever!’

‘Only what you’ll allow. I promise! And I’ll be grateful,
whatever
it is.’

At that moment Balint honestly believed his words to be true and spoke with such conviction that Adrienne smiled at him with renewed happiness in her heart.

 

The next day Balint presented himself at the Uzdy house at the same hour. Once again they started to kiss, but Adrienne seemed preoccupied and worried about something and wanted to talk about it. They sat down side by side and Adrienne at once started to explain:

‘Can you imagine it! Judith wants to get married! And to whom? To Nitwit, of all people. Can you conceive anything so mad as to want such a horrid, dull man!’ Adrienne then told him that soon after he had left the day before her sisters had come to see her and how she had almost quarrelled with Judith. ‘They’ll probably come again this afternoon,’ said Adrienne. ‘It’s very
disagreeable
because for the first time in my life I agree with my mother, and my mother blames me for the whole horrid mess! That’s why she sends Judith to see me. It’s all my fault, she says, for not looking after her properly at the balls. I’ve been a bad
influence
, she says! As if anyone can watch what’s happening every minute of the time! That Wickwitz has got a nerve. How dare he! Judith never told me anything, not a word! She never even asked me … I’m really very annoyed and I’m so sorry for poor Judith who doesn’t know what a horrible decision it is!’