Laszlo felt all this with a sort of sensuous languorousness. Everything was wonderful. He sometimes won quite large sums at cards and was able to pay back a large part, though not all, of what he had borrowed from the money-lenders. He had, of course, to keep some back for he still had a lot of expenses, and this wonderful life was not cheap.
Klara felt the same. For her too this was a time of magic and joy. The wordless pact that bound them together was pure pleasure to her, as was Laszlo’s continual presence and the knowledge that everything he did was for her sake. She cherished the way he looked at her with the eyes of a faithful watchdog, the manner in which he arranged a thousand little unperceived attentions that floated round her like a cloud of incense, just as the scent she used would clothe her young girl’s body with the mystery of womanhood. As a woman she did not think of this period of waiting in the same sort of mystical poetic way that Laszlo did; she was far too down-to-earth for that. She had laid her plans and she waited with determination for the moment when she could make them a reality. At the end of May she would come of age and so she could afford to wait. There would be little point in trying to get her own way now, for it would only lead to lengthy scenes with her father and an icy reception from her stepmother. This would last for months and would poison her life, and it was always possible that she might not be able to summon up enough courage to survive the ordeal. And what if she were forced into submission? It was unthinkable. As Mama Agnes had arranged her whole life until now it would not be easy to face her day after day as a rebellious daughter. No, it was far better to keep everything for one big final battle which would last only for a day and from which she was bound to emerge victorious. One day must take care of everything, must make them accept what she wanted above anything in this life. She dreaded it, but she was determined to see it through.
Klara had planned everything as she lay in her little white schoolgirl’s bed at Simonvasar. A few days after she had officially come of age she would tell her parents, quite suddenly when they were not expecting anything and so would not have had any opportunity to formulate their objections; she had worked out her own arguments long ago. Her plan was this: one day after lunch, just when her father was finishing his cigar, she would come up to him and stand ceremoniously in front of his chair. She would have already seen to it that Peter had taken Niki away somewhere, so that she would be alone with her parents. Then she would tell them that she had decided to marry Laszlo, that she loved him and would accept no one else as long as she lived. She would then ask for their blessing. It wouldn’t be easy, though perhaps her father would be more ready to give in than her stepmother. It was certain that Mama Agnes would fight hard against the match, but what could she say except that he wasn’t grand enough for her? Well, she knew he wasn’t a great match, but that was not what she wanted. She did not need parade and splendour; she only wanted a modest life with the man she loved. They could hardly use the argument that Laszlo was neither Austrian nor of a ducal family but merely an obscure Hungarian noble, because wasn’t that exactly what Aunt Agnes Gyeroffy had been before she became the Princess Kollonich? Her stepmother could not deny her own origins and, in front of her husband who was no snob himself, was not likely to rake up the story of her plots with the Princess Montorio and her ambition to be accepted in the Vienna Olympus! If they asked Klara to wait, she would say that she was now of age and that she had the right to make up her own mind. All she asked, begged for, was their blessing … but, if they withheld it, she would marry him just the same. If they asked what she and Laszlo would live on, she would reply that he had a small estate and that she would sell the jewels she had inherited from her mother. This would hurt her father who had always been proud of the diamond necklace, the ruby clasps and everything that had been her mother’s. Though these trinkets had always been kept in her father’s safe, he was far too much a man of honour not to hand them over when she asked. Had he not always told her, ‘All these are yours, all yours’.
Klara had been through all this over and over again and always she ended up thinking only of Laszlo. She saw his tall figure, with the long lean face on which his slanting eyebrows nearly met and which gave him such a mysterious appearance. She saw the slim body, the tapering artist’s hands and imagined his arms around her holding her as he had in that single magic embrace at Simonvasar when they had first opened their hearts to each other. She could feel his hands wandering over her body, lightly caressing her thighs, her breasts, her neck and arms. All this she would give him, all this would be his to do with what he liked. A restless trembling overcame her as she lay motionless in her little bed wondering how she would have the courage to yield herself. All her bones seemed to dissolve into jelly, until at last she surrendered to the over-riding need to sleep.
In the morning, when she awoke, she would find her pillow cradled in her arms as if she had slept all night in the embrace of her lover.
Chapter Three
WHEN MAY ARRIVED social life in Budapest once more became busy and animated, not only because of the races and balls, both private and public, but also because of the new session of Parliament. In political circles all interest now centred upon the nature of the Address with which the old opposition parties, who now had an overall majority in the House, would attack and condemn the policies that had been followed during the time of Count Tisza’s undisputed rule.
Public support for the opposition was strong but, though the rank and file were vociferous and confident in their condemnation of Vienna and triumphantly brandished patriotic slogans, their leaders were becoming increasingly dismayed by the fact that no progress had been made to resolve the government crisis.
This was the situation when Balint Abady arrived in the capital. Balint took his seat in Parliament every day. At the first session he attended they were arguing about the Address and this continued for the whole of the first two days. Although tempted to sympathize with the opposition’s point-of-view by what Slawata had revealed to him about the secret plans being formed in the Belvedere Palais in Vienna, the nonsense, hot air and chauvinistic posturings revealed by the Address and the speeches in its support drove him right back to his faith in Tisza and to the old monarch.
In the House the different parties were still seated as they had been in the winter after the elections, but the atmosphere was not at all the same. In the seats occupied by the victorious opposition, the camaraderie and friendliness, the mutual congratulations and warm hand-shakes that had united the different factions of which it was formed, had completely evaporated. Now the members looked bitter and cross, and the conflict of interest between each section had made them all as wary of each other as they had been before their victory at the polls. The divisions were there for all to see, for each group kept itself apart from the others. Balint was disgusted by the insincerity and triviality of it all.
The first two days were excessively dull. Platitude followed platitude and each mindless patriotic slogan was greeted with predictable cheers or jeers depending on which side was addressing the house. On the third day, however, it was the turn of the ethnic minorities to express their points of view, the first opportunity that they had ever had. From the centre of their little group Tivadar Mihalyi rose and, in excellent Hungarian, opposed the Address. In measured tones, with moderation and diplomacy, he explained that the minorities he represented could not accept the Address as in their opinion it did not deal with the real evils that bedevilled the progress and prosperity of Hungary. He proposed to present a totally different Address which would concentrate upon internal problems rather than those provoked by the constitutional relationship with the Austrian monarchy. In Tivadar’s Address the emphasis would be on electoral reform, which would ensure that government in Hungary truly represented all those of Hungarian nationality regardless of ethnic origin. This would naturally entail the re-drawing of electoral boundaries, and revision of the nationality laws which had never been accepted by the minorities he represented. Tivadar spoke quietly in measured tones and simple straightforward phrases. Everything he proposed was moderate and reasonable — and above all he reiterated, time after time, that the minorities were an essential part of Hungary and the Hungarian political system, and that all they asked was that they should be recognized as such. When Tivadar sat down, Balint was surprised to note that this first speech by the minorities’ leader caused little stir in the House and was barely applauded. Of course, he reflected, everyone here is only interested in continuing the battle with Tisza. No matter how important any other subject was they would pay attention only when the ex-Minister President rose to speak — and he noted that quite a number of the members had left the Chamber while Tivadar Mihalyi was on his feet and returned only when he sat down. Among those present only one thing counted, and that was the total destruction of Tisza no matter what the battle cost, no matter how much blood was spilt, no matter if all Hungary perished! No one paused to reflect that Tisza had already been defeated in the elections and had left office months before in January.