They Were Counted (51 page)

 

By the early afternoon on the next day Balint was already to be found sitting at a table in front of the Hotel New York in the King Matyas Square. He had chosen a place on the sidewalk where he had a good view of everything that took place in the square. To give a reason for being there, he had ordered a cup of coffee that remained untasted on the table in front of him. The weather was sunny but even so the spring warmth had hardly begun and there was no one else at the other tables. Balint waited for a long time until he saw Adrienne approaching. He rose hurriedly and went to meet her.

Addy seemed as relaxed and gay as if nothing unusual had
happened
between them.

‘Do you have to start calling on people at once?’ asked Balint. ‘Couldn’t we take a stroll first? The weather’s so beautiful!’

Adrienne agreed. ‘We could go to the top of the Hazsongard,’ she said. ‘The view from there is marvellous. I often walk there. Shall we?’

The Hazsongard was the old cemetery of the town. The
unusual
name, which had no meaning of its own, was thought to have come from the German word
Hasengarten,
– a place where hares were to be found in abundance – and in time what had formerly been a place for hunting was found to be conveniently close to the town and so suitable as a burial place. A steep road, paved with cobblestones, led up a hill just outside the town. On both sides could be seen many tombstones, mostly old and neglected, as well as an occasional elaborate mausoleum erected by a prosperous family to house their dead in suitable dignity.

Adrienne and Balint did not speak as they climbed to the top. Finally they arrived at the far end of the burial ground and found a place to sit on the flat top of an old tomb. Up on the hillside the wind was cold and strong.

Adrienne had not exaggerated when she had said that the view was marvellous. From where they sat they could look down on the roofs of the town below and the lines of the old walls, which could only occasionally be discerned from close to, could easily be traced from here, the battlements and little defence towers clearly defining the medieval town and separating it from the more
recent
suburbs. The sunlight gave an ethereal glow to the old stones of the church walls and steeples. On the other side of the town the Citadel Hill rose dramatically from the faintly blue mists which shrouded the course of the Szamos river and its little
tributary
, the Nadas. Above, the peaks of the Gyalu mountains gleamed pale lilac above the yellow streaks of the rivers now
swollen
by melting snow and, far to the north east, the Tarcsa hills could be discerned rising from the valley.

‘It is beautiful here, isn’t it?’ said Addy.

For a while Balint did not reply. He just sat there beside her, gazing at the panorama spread out before them. When he did finally speak he did not look at her but looked steadily in front of him. He needed all the control he could muster to keep his tone light and gently mocking.

‘You know, Addy,’ he said as if he were joking, ‘I’ve thought a lot about you, and I’ve made an important discovery!’

‘And what is it?’

‘That you are a dangerous impostor!’

‘Well, really! I’ve never had that compliment before!’

‘It’s true! You talk about love as if you know all about it, while the truth is you know nothing at all, less than nothing. You’ve really no idea what it’s all about! There are teachers, you know,’ he went on lightly so as to soften the harshness of what he was
saying
, ‘who talk about icebergs, or the sea, or the jungle, without ever having been outside the four walls of their study. They’ve learned all they know from books. You are like them,’ he added slowly and deliberately. ‘This is very dangerous for those who must listen to such teachers. It can be misleading. And you, you of all people! Why, everything about you, your lips, smile, hair, walk, it all contributes to the swindle! Yes, swindle! Everything about you tells the world that you are a woman when the reality is that you are nothing but an ignorant little girl who knows
nothing
at all of what she is talking about. Everything about you is false, nothing is what it seems, nothing. This is surely what the Greeks had in mind when they invented the Sphinx, half woman, half … half monster –
un
monstre,
as the French say so
descriptively
. And you are something even more strange, a sphinx who doesn’t even know the answer to her own questions. Oh, what a danger you are to us modern wanderers!’

A deep blush spread slowly over Adrienne’s ivory skin. Never before had anyone detected the sexual deficiency which for so long had made her feel set apart from other women. When some of her female friends confided their problems to her the only result was that she was made to feel different from them, poorer,
lonelier
, ashamed – and for this reason she had never told anyone of her own difficulties and confusions. Indeed she had done all she could to hide her misery from the world. Knowing that she was blushing, and hoping to prevent Balint from realizing it, she put up her hand as if she needed to hold on to her hat against the strength of the wind but in reality to shade her face from him, so that he could not see her expression.

‘A yellow-eyed monster!’ he went on. ‘It sounds dreadful, doesn’t it? But that’s what I’m going to call you from now on; the Yellow-Eyed Monster! In memory of this afternoon.’

Adrienne understood at once that he was not referring to that afternoon but to their meeting the day before. Balint’s tiger pounce made her angry even now when she thought about it, but this feeling lasted only an instant, for she immediately consoled herself by assuming that everything that Balint had just said had been intended to justify himself, not to attack her. That must have been what was in his mind, she said to herself, when he said that she was different from women with experience in matters of love. Yet, inexperienced and innocent as she was, she still had an uneasy feeling that other women in love would not have been
offended
or repulsed him as she had. Refusing to admit this, even to herself, she raised her head defiantly as if to ward off further
attack
. Balint, however, changed the subject.

‘Do you see? The willows are already green and the birches are coming into bud? They’re all golden as if covered in a gauze veil, and in a week’s time they’ll be in leaf.’

‘Yes! Yes, it is lovely!’ Adrienne spoke with added eagerness, thankful to be talking of something else.

‘Springtime awakes! It’s like Wedekind’s play. Did you ever read it?’

Adrienne admitted that she had and found it interesting but strange. So with relief on both sides they slipped into an easy
discussion
about books and plays and writers which lasted until they started to descend the hill once again. The wind grew stronger and, as they battled against it, the lines of Adrienne’s legs were clearly visible through the serge of her skirt. With the material fluttering in the wind behind her Balint was once again reminded of Diana the Huntress in the Louvre, whose stride and bearing were nothing if not victorious.

 

On the following day they again went for a walk in the afternoon and it was not until three more days had passed that Adrienne
allowed
Balint to visit her again at her home. And then it was only because Parliament had been recalled and Balint would have to go back to Budapest on the night train. It would be his last
evening
at Kolozsvar.

‘All right, you can come,’ said Addy, and went on with severe emphasis, ‘but only if you promise: as we were before. You understand?’

When Balint arrived and was shown into Adrienne’s
sitting-room
, he found her as usual half sitting, half lying on the pile of cushions in front of the fire. He sank down beside her and it seemed to him that today she received his kisses with more
response
than before, as if she were tacitly trying to tell him that she wanted to be forgiven. Though no words passed her lips she seemed to say: Even if I can’t give you more at least I can give you this with all my heart! But please don’t ask for more! They
remained
for a long time, mouth to mouth and body to body, barely speaking apart from an occasional endearment, never a sentence or question that had to be answered. Adrienne’s wavy hair fell in disorder round her shoulders until they had to pull apart so that she could sit up and pin her rebellious mane back into place. As she did so Balint leant back, away from her, his eyes drinking in the beauty of her slim waist and the line of her arms as they curved above her head.

The door from the bedroom door opened. Pal Uzdy came in, silently, his slow measured steps making no sound as he walked slowly to the fireplace. There he turned stiffly, straightened up his long thin body and without any polite hesitation or greeting, said: ‘What are you doing here in the dark?’

‘Talking!’ said Addy defiantly.

‘So! So! Indeed! That’s very good. Of course! Of course!’ Uzdy spoke slowly and deliberately, pausing between each repeated word, a smile of mockery on his cadaverous face. As he spoke it was clear that his eyes were taking in the pile of cushions strewn on the floor, some of which showed clearly by their disarray that they had been lain upon for a considerable time.

‘Artistic subjects, of course! The arts … culture. Very
absorbing
, I know. It’s a pity I don’t understand such things. Anyway I have not time for them. I arrived from Almasko this instant, and I’ve a great deal to do!’

Uzdy now turned to Abady and, looking down at him from his great height, said: ‘I didn’t know you were here, otherwise I wouldn’t have dared …’

At these words he laughed softly and pulled at his long
moustaches
. Standing there by the fireplace, his body lit from behind by the leaping flames of the fire, he could well have been taken for a devil, long thin legs outlined in red fluttering reflections of light, long thin form towering to an unearthly height. His feet were pressed closely together so that his body gave the impression that it swayed slightly with the uncertain outline of a disembodied
apparition
. Slowly he looked from his wife to Balint and then back to his wife again. His right hand, Balint noticed, was hidden under his coat, just where he kept the little Browning pistol that he had pulled out in the Casino when he had shot at the light bulb above Kamuthy’s head. Balint wondered if he were about to draw it now and shoot him. Whatever he does, I won’t even speak! thought Balint, and laughed to show Uzdy that he was not afraid.

‘Everything’s ready at Almasko, Adrienne. If you so wish we could move back next week,’ Uzdy said to his wife.

‘Whenever you like!’ she replied. ‘One day’s notice is enough for me.’

Uzdy turned to Balint. ‘Would you care to join us? They tell me you like shooting and you’ll find some excellent roebuck in my woods. I don’t know much about it myself but they tell me there’s good sport to be found there. If it would amuse you?’ Then
without
any apparent reason he burst out laughing before going on: ‘Roebuck! Yes, roebuck! It’s only a sort of game, of course, but some people like it.’

‘You’re most kind, but I have to go to Budapest tonight. There’s a sitting of the House.’

‘Of course! Of course! Parliament, politics … Very important, politics! Well, perhaps when you come back? You will be coming back, will you not, sooner or later? Then perhaps you will do me, do
us
the honour? That’s right, isn’t it, Adrienne? He must do
us
the honour, both of us. Even if our place cannot compare with Denestornya, at least we can offer you a hearty welcome, an old-fashioned Hungarian welcome. Right?’

‘I will come with pleasure as soon as I return,’ said Balint. ‘And I’ll bring my new Schonauer rifle, if I may?’

‘That won’t be necessary. I have several excellent guns. I don’t often shoot for sport but I like shooting at targets! You can use any of my guns … anything of mine, can’t he, Adrienne? As you please. Bring your own if you wish.’