The same question was now being fired at him from every direction. “OK, tell us about the big problem? Couldn’t we. . Maybe despite that. . Somehow. . “
Look here, my friends. . It’s not such a great secret really and there is nothing to stop me telling you. I just wonder what use the knowledge will be to you?. . In any case, there’s nothing you can do to help me at the moment. For my part, I would be happy to help you once things here have improved, but for now this other business needs my entire attention. To tell you the truth, the estate looks a hopeless case to me right now. . the best I could do, maybe, would be to find one or other of you honest work, a decent living somewhere, but your whole siltuation is new to me so you will understand that for now it’s impossible. I’d have to give the matter some proper thought. . You’d like to remain together? I understand, of course I do, but what can I do in that case?. . Pardon? What was that? You mean the problem. What’s the problem? Well look, I’ve already told you that it makes no sense keeping anything from you. The problem is money, ladies and gentlemen, money, because without a penny, of course, there’s nothing to be done, the deal is dead. . the cost of the lease, the outlay on contracts, the rebuilding, the investment, the whole business of production, requires, as you know, a certain, what they call, capital investment. . but that’s a complex matter, my friends, and why go into that now? What’s that?. . Really?. . You’ve got the money?. . But how? Oh, I see. You mean the value of the cattle, the herd. Well, that’s fair enough. .
There was real fever in the company now; Futaki had already sprung to his feet, grabbed a table, put it down in front of Irimiás and reached into his pocket. He displayed his contribution to the others and threw it on the table. Within minutes he was followed, first by Kráner, then, one after the other, by the rest, all pledging their cash on top of Futaki’s contribution. The grey-faced landlord ran back and forth behind his counter, stopping dead every so often, and standing on tiptoe so he could see better. Irimiás rubbed his eyes in exhaustion; the cigarette in his hand went out. He looked on without expression as Futaki, Kráner, Halics, Schmidt, the headmaster and Mrs. Kráner tried to outdo each other in their enthusiasm to demonstrate their readiness and commitment. So the pile of money on the table rose ever higher. Finally Irimiás rose, went over to Petrina, stood beside him and moved his hand for silence. The room fell quiet.
My friends! I can’t deny your enthusiasm is deeply touching. . But you haven’t thought it over properly. No, you haven’t! No protests, please. You can’t be serious about this! Surely you can’t be capable of committing your hard earned small savings, won with such superhuman effort, suddenly, just like that to an on-the-spur-of-the-moment idea, sacrificing everything, risking all, on a venture that’s full of risks? Oh, my friends! I am extremely grateful for this moving demonstration, but no! I can’t take it from you. . not for, what seems likely to be, several months. . Really?. . the bitterly scrimped savings of a whole year?. . What can you be thinking?! My scheme is, after all, fraught with as yet unpredictable risks of all sorts! The forces I am up against could delay realization of the plan for months, even years! And you wish to sacrifice your hard-earned cash for that? And should I accept it — after having just confessed to being unable to help you in the immediate future? No, ladies and gentlemen! I can’t do it. Please take your money back and put it away safely! I’ll get the necessary resources one way or the other. I’m not willing to let you risk so much. Landlord, if you could just stand still for a moment, would you please be kind enough to bring me a spritzer. . Thank you. . Wait! Let no one refuse! I invite my dear friends to have a drink on me. . Go on, landlord, don’t even think about it. . Drink up, my friends. . and think. Think well. Calm yourselves and think it over once more. . Make no rash decisions. I have told you what this is about and what the risks are. You should only agree to it if you are utterly decided. Consider the possibility that you might lose this hard-earned sum and that then you might, just might, have to begin again from scratch. . No, no, friend Futaki, I do believe that’s something of an exaggeration. . That I am. . that you talk about salvation. . Please don’t embarrass me like that! Yes. . that’s a little closer to the mark, friend Kráner. . “Well-wisher” is a term I can more readily accept, “a well-wisher” is what I certainly am. . I see you are not to be convinced. OK, OK, fine. . Ladies! Gentlemen! Can I have a little quiet please! Let’s not forget why we are gathered here this morning! All right! Thank you!. . Please sit down in your places. . Yes. . Indeed. . Thank you, my friends. . Thank you!
Irimiás waited for everyone to return to their chairs, returned to his own, stood there, cleared his throat, threw out his arms in a gesture of emotion, then let them drop helplessly to his sides, raising his slightly tearful eyes to the ceiling. Behind the deeply moved company, the Horgos family — now quite isolated from the others — stared at each other, helplessly confused. The landlord was emotionally scrubbing the top of the counter with his drying-up cloth, polishing the cake tray and the glasses, then sat back on his stool but, however he tried, he could not tear his eyes away from the great pile of money in front of Irimiás.
Now, my most dear friends. . What can I say! Our paths have crossed by chance but fate demands that, from this hour on, we stick together, inseparably together. . Though I worry for you, ladies and gentlemen, on account of the chance you are taking. I must confess your trust moves me. . it feels good to be the subject of an affection of which I do not feel myself worthy. . But let’s not forget how we have arrived in this situation! Let’s not forget! Let us always remember, let us never forget, the cost! What a cost! Ladies and gentlemen! I hope you will agree with me when I suggest that a small part of this sum, this money in front of me, should cover the cost of the funeral, so that the unfortunate mother might be saved the burden — as a gesture to the child who went to her final sleep most certainly for us or because of us. . Because, in the end, it is impossible to decide whether it was for us, or because of us that she died. We cannot prove the case either way. But the question will remain in our hearts for ever, as will the child’s memory, a child whose life might have been lost for this precise purpose. . so that the star that governs our lives might rise at last. . Who knows, my friends. . But life is harsh, and it has dealt harshly with us in this matter.
V. The Distance, As Seen
For years after, Mrs. Halics would insist that as Irimiás, Petrina and the “demon child” who had in the end attached himself to them, disappeared down the road leading to town in the pattering rain, leaving those that remained standing silently around in front of the bar because the figure of their savior had not quite vanished in the bend of the road, the air above their heads was suddenly filled with brightly colored butterflies. Where they came from no one knew but you could clearly hear the gentle angelic music from on high. And though she was perhaps alone in such an opinion, this much was certain: they had only just begun to believe in what had happened, and were only now capable of realizing that they weren’t the subject of some lulling but false vision with a bitter awakening to follow, but an enthusiastic, specially chosen band that had just passed through the painful process of liberation; and as long as they could still see Irimiás, recall his clear instructions, and be cheered by his words of encouragement, they could keep at bay the fear that something terrible might happen at any moment, something that might sweep away their fragile sense of victory and leave it utterly in tatters, for they also knew that, once he had gone, the glowing sparks of enthusiasm could quickly turn to ashes; and so, in order that the time should seem longer between striking the agreement and the farewells that would inevitably follow, they had tried to delay Irimiás and Petrina’s departure by a variety of artful distractions; by discussing the weather, or complaining about their rheumatism, or opening new bottles of wine, babbling all the while — as if their lives depended on it — about the general corruption of life. And so it was understandable that they could breathe freely only once Irmimiás had gone, for he embodied not only the promise of a bright future, but also the fear of disaster: no wonder that it was only after he had gone that they dared truly believe that from now on “everything would be right as rain’, and also only now that they could relax, let joy sweep over them, allaying their anxiety, and enjoy the sudden dizzying sense of liberation that could overcome even the usual “sense of apparently inevitable doom.” Their boundless good cheer only increased when waving farewell to the landlord (‘Serves you right, you old miser!” — shouted Kráner) who was leaning, exhausted, against the doorframe, his arms crossed, with rings under his eyes, watching the merry chattering band as they moved away, and capable — after having exhausted his self-consuming fury, long-simmering hatreds and the agony of his sheer helplessness — was capable of nothing more than shouting after them: “Drop dead, you miserable, ungrateful bunch of bastards!” He had spent the night awake plotting ways — all ineffective, all flawed — of getting rid of Irimiás who had had the nerve to take over even his bed, so while he was debating with bloodshot eyes whether to stab him, strangle him, poison him, or simply chop him into pieces with his axe, “the hook-nosed swine” was happily snoring at the back of the store, not taking the least bit of notice. Talking had proved useless too, utterly useless, though he had done everything possible, in anger, in fury, in warning, or simply by pleading, to dissuade “these ignorant bumpkins” from this guaranteed disaster of a plan, a disaster that would destroy them all, but it was like talking to a brick wall (‘Come to your senses, dammit! Can’t you see he’s leading you by the nose?!’), so there was nothing for it, but to curse the whole world and admit the humiliating truth that he was ruined once and for all. For “what’s the point of staying in business for one drunken pig and one old tramp” — what could he do except gather up his belongings and to do what everyone else was doing, to leave, to move back into his house in town, and hope to sell the bar, maybe even make some use of the spiders. “I could offer to sell them to someone for use in some scientific experiment; who knows, I might even get a bit of money for them,” he pondered. “But that would be just a drop in the ocean. . The fact is I have no idea how to start over again from scratch,” he sadly admitted. The intensity of his disappointment was only matched by the intensity of Mrs. Horgos’s delight at his despair. Having surveyed “this whole idiotic ritual” with a sour expression, she had returned to the bar, to mock the landlord behind his counter. “You see. Just look at you! The horse has bolted, all right!” The landlord controlled himself but he’d happily have kicked her. “That’s the way it goes,” she went on. “Now up, now down. You’d better get used to it and accept it. See where all your bright ideas have got you? A lovely house in town, a car, your lady wife — but that’s not enough for you. So now you can choke on it!” “Shut up with your cackling,” the landlord growled back. “Go home and do your cackling there!” Mrs. Horgos downed her beer and lit a cigarette. “My husband was just like you, never satisfied. Nothing was ever good enough for him, not no how. By the time he realized his mistake it was too late. There was nothing left but to hang himself in the attic.” “Why don’t you just shut up!” the landlord snapped back. “Stop hassling me! Go home and look after your daughters before they run off too!” “Them?” Mrs. Horgos grinned. “Forget it. You think I’m simple or something? I’ve locked them up at home till this bunch on the estate are safely away. Why not? They’d leave me in my old age to look after myself. This way they can carry on looking after the farm — they’ve done enough whoring, after all. They might not like it, but they’ll get used to it. It’s only the kid, Sanyi. I’m cutting him loose. He can go where he likes. I can’t see any use for him at home anyway. He eats like a pig. I can’t support him. Let him go — wherever he wants. One less thing to worry about.” “You and Kerekes can do what you like,” growled the landlord. “But it’s all over for me. That rat-faced bastard has ruined me for good.” He knew that by evening, when he had finished packing — because until then nothing else could go in the van apart from the coffin, not next to it, not behind it, not on the seats, anywhere — once he had carefully locked all the doors and windows and was driving to town in his battered old Warszawa, cursing all the while, he wouldn’t be looking back, wouldn’t turn round once, but would vanish as fast as he could and try to wipe all trace of this miserable building from his memory, hoping it would sink from sight, and be entirely covered up, so that not even stray dogs would stop to piss on it; that he would vanish precisely the way the mob from estate had vanished, vanish without a last look at those moss-covered tiles, the crooked chimney, and the barred windows because, having turned the bend and passed beneath the old sign indicating the name of the estate, feeling elated by their “brilliant future prospects’, they trusted the new would not only replace the old but utterly erase it. They had decided to meet by the old engine house in two hours at the latest, because they wanted to get to Almássy Manor while it was still light, and in any case that seemed ample enough time to pack their most important belongings, for what was the point of dragging stupid bits of bric-a-brac with you for ten or so miles, particularly when they knew they wouldn’t lack for anything once they got there. Mrs. Halics had suggested they start straightaway, not bothering with anything, leaving it all behind to start in the spirit of Christian poverty, since “we are already blessed and well-provided for with the Bible!” but the others — chiefly Halics — eventually convinced her that it was desirable to take at least a few basic personal necessities. They parted excitedly and feverishly set to packing, the three women going through their wardrobes first then emptying kitchens and pantries, while Schmidt, Kráner and Halics’s first thoughts were for their tool cupboards sorting out essentials, then checking everything else with eagle eyes in case the women in their carelessness had left “anything valuable behind.” The two bachelors had the easiest job of it: all their possessions fit into two large suitcases: unlike the headmaster who packed fast but very selectively, constantly bearing in mind the idea of making “the best use of whatever the new place offers.” Futaki quickly threw his belongings into the old suitcases left to hi