They Were Found Wanting (13 page)

It was quite late when everyone rose and said goodnight. For once Uzdy accompanied his wife along the corridor to her room and as he did so he put his arm round her shoulders as if he would press her to him, but Adrienne coldly shook herself free.

When they arrived at her door Adrienne would not let him in.

‘No! Not today! Not today!’

‘Why? What is it? Darling Addy, what silliness is this?’ said Uzdy, all honey and sweetness. Then, abruptly, he changed his tone and with all his old menace he asked slowly, ‘Any special reason today?’

Adrienne longed to tell him how much she loathed him but she knew from experience that any such words only excited him the more. She knew that any opposition only whetted his
appetite
, provoking his desire and stirring up his conquering instincts. Accordingly she merely said in a cold voice, ‘None. I just don’t want it today, not today. That’s all!’

Uzdy towered above her, his hand clenched into a fist against the door, but Adrienne stepped quickly back, pushed him away with a sudden thrust against his chest, closed the door and locked it from inside.

This happened in the fraction of a second.

Inside Adrienne leaned back against the door, her heart
beating
wildly as she wondered whether in his rage he would hammer on the door and try to break it down. But nothing happened. Both remained motionless, she in the dark room and he in the
corridor
divided from each other as if by a wall. For a long time neither moved. Adrienne could just hear the sounds of old Maier closing the main door of the house and then his footsteps on the gravel outside as he crossed the outer court. Then once again there was silence. Neither moved …

A long time later Uzdy turned and went away. Perhaps the
fulfilment
he had found that afternoon had deflected his usual
determination
but, whatever it was, he went and he went so softly that the only sound Adrienne could hear was the gentle creaking of the wooden stair that led to his rooms below.

When Adrienne heard this noise, which had always before been the herald of such horror for her when he was coming to her room, she was filled with a sense of triumph and her
amber-coloured
eyes opened wide with joy at the knowledge that, at last, and even if only for once, she had been able to protect herself from his hated love-making.

She was as dazed as a slave unexpectedly set free.

For a long time Adrienne could not sleep. She lay still and
triumphant
in that great wide bed where she had so often cried
herself
to sleep, humiliated and defiled among the ravaged sheets, and the sense of her victory kept her awake until, at long last, as the cocks were already crowing, she feel into a deep untroubled sleep.

Abady did not leave Almasko as early as he had planned. It was about nine o’clock when he strapped up his bag ready to return to the forest, but even then he was hanging back hoping against hope to see Addy again, even if only to exchange a word or two and to arrange when they should next meet. Still hesitating, he went out into the forecourt, moving slowly towards the circle of lawn in the centre. All at once Adrienne was beside him, cool and radiant, her eyes bright and shining.

‘I’m coming with you,’ she said. ‘We have to talk.’

When they had gone only a few steps a window from the
corridor
was flung open and Uzdy appeared. Adrienne and Balint stood for a moment petrified, for both of them were surprised that Uzdy, who always slept late, should be up so early. ‘I had to say goodbye,’ he called. ‘Out of politeness, of course! It’s proper for the host. Wait for me! I’m coming down!’ He disappeared and Adrienne and Balint looked wonderingly at each other, asking themselves what this could mean. Had he been spying on them? Could he have heard how familiarly they spoke to each other?

Uzdy came out towards them dressed in a long dark-grey
flannel
robe like some ghost advancing slowly across the lawn.

‘I wanted to ask you to be so good as not to tell anyone about what we discussed yesterday. Not to anybody, anybody at all! This whole thing is so universally important – and, of course, so simple, so elementary – that somebody might well try to steal the idea. Then it would get written up and all my work would be for nothing. It’s just the idea, that’s it, just the basic idea that counts. That’s what matters – the idea!’ He barked out the words and tapped at his forehead as he almost shouted once again, ‘The idea! That’s what matters!’

Balint assured him he would keep it all deathly secret and they shook hands. He started to move away, and Adrienne went with him.

‘Darling Addy, you are going with our distinguished friend?’ asked Uzdy in an exaggerated drawl.

She turned to face him, her black hair seeming even more alive than usual in the slight breeze. Her head was held high, her aquiline nose as sharp as a knife-edge and her whole attitude one of challenge and defiance.

‘Oh, yes! I’ll go with him. I always walk at this time. Do you object?’

‘No! No! Not at all. Go ahead … of course, of course. Do go … of course.’ He spoke each word more slowly than the last, but stayed where he was, motionless on the lawn in front of the house, as Balint and Adrienne started to climb the hill.

Before they reached the trees they both turned and looked back.

Uzdy was still standing in the same place and to the young man at least it looked as if Uzdy’s oriental features were distorted with rage and his mouth open as if he were about to call out after them. The tall elongated figure silhouetted against the
butter
-yellow building was like an exclamation mark after a cry of menace.

‘You must tell me! What happened yesterday, all the time you were in his room? Why that awful time?’ asked Adrienne as soon as they had reached the shade of the forest. ‘I was so afraid for you. It was hours … I was terrified!’

Balint laughed.

‘So was I, when he issued his summons. I was sure we were in for a showdown and that, as soon as we got to his room, or shortly afterwards, he’d pull his Browning on me. But it wasn’t for that or anything like it. I don’t think it even entered his head!’

Adrienne wanted to know what they had talked about.

‘He wanted to explain some abstruse mathematical theory that he had invented and was working on. I can’t really explain it – it’s very peculiar, brilliant in its way but quite pointless. He wants to change our way of counting and proposes that ten should not contain ten units but twelve.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘No more do I, not now when I have to explain it! But when Uzdy talked about it I seemed more or less to follow him, even though it all seemed completely crazy. It was really very
interesting
; he’s got the most extraordinary range of knowledge – but to spend so much time and energy on such a pointless idea – it’s just not normal!’

‘When was he ever normal?’ cried Adrienne. ‘Never! Never! Never!’

Now they emerged from the trees and found themselves on a bare ridge. The view from where they stood was beautiful and in the valleys the morning mist was bathed in sunshine until it looked almost liquid, vibrating and surging like a vast sea which submerged even the farthest mountains.

Back among the trees they continued along the forest path and, as they did so, the feeling of liberation in Adrienne grew stronger and stronger. When, after the traumatic afternoon of waiting on the previous day, she had finally seen Balint emerge unscathed from the lions’ den and in quiet conversation with her husband, the release from those two hours of terrified waiting had come as more than mere escape from a dreaded threat. It was as if she were now released from all obligations to her
husband
. Now, at long last, she had found the strength to resist him and when, the previous evening, she had at last shut her door on him it had left her with a sense of triumph, of long-awaited
freedom
. She was still engulfed in the shade of the prison-house, but now, for the first time, Adrienne felt that the doors to freedom were opening before her.

Beneath their feet the dust of the forest floor rose as they walked, and to Adrienne it was as if they floated weightless over clouds of heavenly vapour, returning unharmed from the gates of Hell, ready now to defy the whole wide world. Balint had braved Uzdy in his lair and walked away free. She had at last denied
herself
to him and also walked freely away, and it was as if the fetters were melting away. Drunk with a sense of victory she walked on light and she knew where she was going. Putting aside all their previous caution Adrienne did not stop when they reached the boundary of her husband’s properties but strode on confidently at Balint’s side, heedless of the fact that when they reached the giant beech tree from which led the track to Balint’s hut she could be seen and recognized by the peasants using the same road on their way to market.

As soon as they arrived she flung herself into his arms, hungrily accepting his love … and only much later did she tell him what had happened the previous night.

D
ODO GYALAKUTHY’S MOTHER
bought her an automobile. It was a handsome open car with a canvas hood of American design and it was capable of cruising at the then
amazing
speed of seventy kilometres an hour. At the same time she engaged a sensible and trustworthy chauffeur, old enough not to be too irresponsible, and gave her daughter permission to use the car as she liked, even for going alone to visit friends in the
country
. This last had not been easily granted but Dodo was a
determined
girl, strong-willed and sure of herself, who would have done whatever she wished regardless of any parental ban; and so Countess Gyalakuthy, the kind-hearted chubby Adelma, who realized this, had yielded to her daughter’s pleas all the more as she knew her daughter to be a sensible and clever girl who could be trusted not to do anything foolish.

Naturally this caused a great deal of talk when the older ladies got together for a gossip. ‘A young gel like that traipsing about alone God knows where! Did you ever hear anything so dreadful!’ cried the wizened old Countess Sarmasaghy, everyone’s Aunt Lizinka, when she first heard about it, and immediately ordered up her ancient pair of big-bellied carriage horses and drove over to Radnotfalva saying to herself that she’d put such a scare into that foolish Adelma that that would be an end to the matter. What she really wanted, of course, was to be the first to know all the details which she would then circulate, adorned and
embellished
, to her little clan of scandalmongering old ladies.

Nothing she could say could remove the smile from Countess Gyalakuthy’s good-natured face.

‘My daughter is no longer a child,’ she said calmly. ‘She is of age and there is no need for me to watch over her all the time. Dodo is quite capable of looking after herself.’

And so Dodo proved herself. Nothing she did provided any food for the ladies’ scandal teas. There was nothing very dreadful to be inferred from the fact that she drove over to Var-Siklod or Mezo-Varjas to play tennis – and as it was well-known that none of the young men was paying court to her the harvest of sly innuendo was meagre indeed. Aunt Lizinka soon dropped the matter when she found that there was nothing scandalous there for her to get her teeth into.

So Dodo went where she wanted and no one thought any the worse of her for it. Sometimes she made quite long trips simply for her own pleasure, driving up the Maros valley or up to the
mountains
of Torocko. She loved speed and when at the wheel herself would drive as fast as she could.

One cloudy morning in late September, her cobalt-blue
sports-car
could be seen rushing down the slope of the Felek. There was hardly any sound on the mile-long stretch for Dodo had turned off the engine. Occasionally there was a slight whine as she braked at the corners. Then she slowed down only to speed up again when she reached the straight road ahead. Dodo drove calmly and with great concentration, touching the horn only if it were necessary to warn others on the road of her approach. She had learned well how to assess the space between the carts she might want to pass and she drove as if she were thinking of
nothing
else. In fact, the car and the road occupied only one part of her mind, the practical, active part. The other was far away as she went over in her mind some of the things that had recently happened to her and what she had now decided to do.

Since they had moved back to their country place in May she had only occasionally been able to see Laszlo Gyeroffy. With much cunning she had lured him over to Radnotfalva, having organized a tennis tournament with the sole purpose of having an excuse to invite him. Then she had kept him there for several days talking to him about music and getting him to play for her. It filled her with joy that she could get this normally withdrawn and shy young man to talk freely to her, his reticence melting away as she encouraged his confidences. She knew he did not love her, but she also knew that he found her sweet and sympathetic.

After he had gone home they had exchanged letters. Dodo wrote asking questions about music, sending him scores and
asking
for his opinions. And Laszlo always answered her letters, though not always at once, and when he did so Dodo seemed to sense something behind his words, something deeper that
suggested
some emotion other than mere polite interest. A week before he had sent her a little song, somewhat roughly put down on the page, a sad little melody that could hardly be thought a song of love. He had written that it was quite old but she
wondered
if he had said that only because he had not dared to admit that, maybe, it was new and that he had written it for her.

The thought of this filled her with hope and joy.

The blue car speeded across the valley, crossing the river at Apahida and turning off at Tarcsa. As Dodo got nearer to Kozard she began to feel a little scared at her own temerity, wondering how Laszlo would respond to what she was going to propose.

Very carefully Dodo had gone over in her mind everything that she knew about him and every word that he had spoken to her. She knew that he had loved Klara Kollonich, his cousin, but that she had thrown him over a year and a half before and
married
someone else. Now, thought Dodo, surely there had been time enough for the hurt to wear off. The last time Laszlo had been to stay there had been no sign that he still gave any thought at all to his old love. Then, for once, he had seemed light-hearted, even jovial, and had said things that could only encourage her in her hopes, phrases like, ‘You’re the only person I can talk to like this. Only you understand these things’. That sort of remark must mean something, even if they were only talking about music. Dodo was sure that he meant more than he said, that he was trying to hint at his feelings; and she believed this because she wanted to.

The village of Kozard consisted only of a few small peasants’ houses and one larger old building in which was a grocery store. When Dodo’s elegant car drew up in front of the store the owner, Mor Bischitz, looked out with joy in his heart. Anyone who owned such a wonderful vehicle must surely be great and
important
and noble indeed! Quickly he stepped out, respectfully
doffing
his wide-brimmed hat and revealing the little skullcap on the crown of his head from which no practising orthodox Jew would ever be parted.

‘How can I be of service to your Ladyship?’ he asked in a rich plummy voice.

‘I am looking for Count Gyeroffy’s house. Can you direct me?’

As Bischitz was explaining that Dodo would have to drive on past a little vacant plot, turn off by an abandoned labourer’s
cottage
and follow the road until, on a small hill … he was
interrupted
by a little Jewish girl, barefooted, stole shyly up to the car. She was about nine or ten years old, very dirty and unkempt, but she had a most lovely face. Her uncombed hair was thick and
lustrous
and Titian-red in colour and her eyes were large and black.

‘I’ll show you! I know the way!’ she said eagerly.

Her father turned on her and shouted rudely at her, ‘Regina! Get away with you! You stay where you are. Back to the kitchen!’ and he menaced her with his fist.

By now the car was surrounded by a group of urchins all
offering
their help. When Dodo put her foot on the accelerator and speeded away they all ran after the car until it was out of sight.

The little lane wound itself up the hill and finally led to a
handsome
building in the French style. Above substantial foundations the raised ground floor had a long row of tall French windows fitted with square window-panes, most of which were missing or broken. It was clear that no one lived in those rooms. The
windows
of the first floor projected from a mansard roof.

It was obvious that the house had been the whim of a most
individual
man. It had been built by Laszlo’s father at the time of his marriage to the artistically-minded Julia Ladossa who greatly admired the French taste. It was truly beautiful, pure in style and so elegant that it would have seemed entirely at home
standing
somewhere on the banks of the Loire. But for this very reason it looked out of place in Transylvania. ‘Long windows in this
climate
!’ people had said mockingly. But it had been Julia’s wish, and to Laszlo’s father that was all that mattered.

As it turned out they had never moved into the grand rooms on the ground floor. Beautiful French marble chimneypieces had been fitted but the walls had only been whitewashed because, long before the silken wall-coverings had arrived from Lyon, the lady for whom all this was being prepared got into her carriage and drove away. She had escaped. A week later Mihaly Gyeroffy was found dead in the woods shot by his own gun.

Since then no one, except a sort of guardian, had lived in the house.

Everything had been kept locked and untouched until the day came that Laszlo returned home, ruined by his losses at cards and, as he thought, a social outcast.

‘Would you take a look at the spark plugs? They don’t seem to be working quite right. Oh, yes, and better check the carburettor too, please,’ said Dodo to her chauffeur, who had been sitting beside her. This was her pretended reason for stopping at Kozard.

The man looked a little surprised but Dodo took no notice and went up the steps to where the front door stood open and straight on into the house.

She found herself in a large and beautiful entrance-hall, the unpainted walls stuccoed in the style of Louis XVI. In front of her was a pair of large doors which presumably led to a
drawing-room
. She was wondering what to do when an untidy elderly man shuffled slowly forwards coming from an unnoticed service door. It was the guardian, Laszlo’s only servant.

‘Where can I find Count Gyeroffy?’ she asked.