Chapter Four
AS FAR AS MOST of the upper classes were concerned, politics were of little importance, for there were plenty of other things that interested them more.
There were, for instance, the spring racing season, partridge shooting in late summer, deer-culling in September and pheasant shoots as winter approached. It was, of course, necessary to know when Parliament was to assemble, when important party meetings were to take place or which day had been set aside for the annual general meeting of the Casino, for these days would not be available for such essential events as race-meetings or grand social receptions. And, after the Budapest races, the Derby season in Vienna would follow, and so many people would be away at that time that it would be useless to make plans for a time when ‘nobody’ would be in the Budapest.
Now, at the beginning of May, the social season was at its peak. The greatest event was the King’s Cup race, which many people came from Vienna to attend, especially the great Austrian breeders and stud-owners and many of the rich young men about town. Among these last Montorio had already arrived so as to attend the great race and also the big ball to be given afterwards at the Park Club. He encountered the Kollonich party at the races and immediately engaged Klara for the cotillion. As he spoke the girl detected an unusually determined ring in his voice and took this as a warning that she must be careful.
Before leaving for Budapest the prince had decided that the matter of his marriage could wait no longer. He had to know where he stood. He wanted to get married and he knew that his mother approved of the Kollonich girl. It would be a good match; he liked Klara and her ample dowry. Everything seemed to be set fair and yet somehow the matter had dragged on. It was possible that the girl was not willing, and if that were so he would look elsewhere. He decided he must get the affair settled one way or the other on the first night of his visit to Budapest. He was confident that he only had to ask to be accepted, for had not his mother shown him the Princess Kollonich’s letters in which she had hinted strongly that this was so? Such a handsome young man, Princess Agnes had said, so nice, so attractive!
Laszlo Gyeroffy was also at the races. When Klara walked down with Magda Szent-Gyorgyi and some other girls to the paddock where the glossy-coated thoroughbreds were being walked round before being saddled up, Laszlo joined them. They leaned together on the white-painted wooden rails.
Although Klara gave the impression that she was engrossed in her race programme, Laszlo sensed that she wanted to tell him something important, and was only studying the names of the horses with such intensity because she was waiting until the other girls’ attention was distracted. When Magda started a heated argument about the identity of one of the horses, Klara turned quickly to him and said in a low voice: ‘I have to have supper tonight with Montorio. Come and sit on my right and as soon as we can get up ask me at once for the supper-csardas. It’s vitally important! I think he wants to ask me something …’ She broke off and turned to the others, joining in their discussion about the bay mare. Later they all strolled slowly back to the grandstand.
The supper was given in one of the ground-floor rooms of the Park Club. The night was warm and the windows on to the garden were all open. Klara chose a table far away from the band. She sat down with Montorio and three other couples who were her usual companions. With Laszlo there were nine at the table, and because of Montorio’s presence, they all spoke either in German or English. They were all very lively, led by Klara who was in high good humour, wickedly vivacious and provoking, flirting with all the young men in turn and keeping everyone so amused that the conversation remained general. She was determined that this should be so as she dreaded giving Montorio the chance to talk quietly to her alone. Her female intuition had told her that sometime that evening he would ask her to marry him, and this she was determined to avoid. It would be too awkward if he insisted on a definite answer and she was forced to prevaricate; somehow, therefore, he must not be given any opportunity to speak.
Gaily, and unusually loudly for her, she teased Magda, who was sitting opposite her across the table with Imre Warday. Her normally soft eyes glittered and her beautiful lips curled with amusement as she kept up a stream of high-spirited mockery of the others. The music could hardly be heard at this end of the room and Klara kept them all laughing and joking until the supper was over. They all thought they had never had such a good time and Warday was especially pleased that Klara seemed to have singled him out. Only Montorio was more silent than usual.
When the time came for the supper-csardas, Laszlo went over to the band-leader to tell him to take the musicians up to the ballroom. As he did so the other couples also rose and moved away. Klara stood up and started to pull on her gloves.
‘Wollen wir nicht ein bischen in den Garten — wouldn’t you like a little turn in the garden?’ said Montorio in a low voice, and added: ‘Es ist so schwiil hier — it’s so crowded in here.’
‘Ich finde nicht!’ said Klara, shaking her head.
‘Nur ein Moment. Ich möchte Sie etwas wichtiges fragen — only for a moment. I have something important to ask you!’
This was serious.
For an instant Klara’s ocean-grey eyes seemed to darken. She hesitated. Looking up at his face, though at his mouth and the thin line of neat moustache rather than into his eyes, she realized that she hated him because he had found the way to an intimacy from which she shrank. Then she spoke:
‘Es wäre zwecklos — there would be no point,’ she said slowly but with unmistakable emphasis.
‘So? …’ said Montorio, straightening up stiffly. ‘So… So … So … Vollkommen — so that’s it, then!’
Laszlo rejoined them at this moment. Klara put her arm though his and together they hurried away, as if in flight through the hall, up the stairs and into the ballroom where the slow opening in the csardas was already beginning. Montorio stood motionless where he was. After a few moments he was alone in the supper-room. He passed his hand over his elegantly balding forehead and then, with an air of deliberate calm, he took out his cigarette-case and lit a cigarette before walking slowly towards the darkened entrance hall, threading his way through the rush of waiters who were busy clearing up the plates, and surreptitiously swilling down what remained of the champagne.
In the oval drawing-room which opened off the hall were some of the older ladies, gossiping together before going up to watch the dancing. Seeing Montorio by the doorway Princess Agnes detached herself from the group with whom she was talking and came towards him. Wearing her most proprietorial smile she said: ‘How lucky I am. I was just going to look for you! Could you come to us tomorrow at midday? A small luncheon, en famille, just ourselves!’
The young man replied coldly: ‘Thank you, Princess. You are most kind, but I shall be returning to Vienna on the morning train.’ His eyes were angry. Why had this woman made such a fool of him? If it hadn’t been for her letters he would never have made this humiliating attempt!