It was nearly twelve o’clock the next morning when Klara’s maid, Ilus, came to her and said: ‘Her Grace would like to see you, my Lady!’ The girl spoke timidly and then stood back against the doorway to let Klara pass.
Alarmed, Klara, accompanied by the girl, went towards her stepmother’s rooms. She was sure that the princess would now demand an explanation and the moment so long dreaded, when she would have to tell the truth about her feelings, would now be forced upon her. She had thought about it most of the night, lying awake filled with anxiety and wondering how she would explain herself. She regretted now that she had not told her stepmother everything months before, voluntarily revealing what was in her heart. Of course she had always imagined that it would be she who would choose the moment, never thinking that one day she would be summoned to account for herself as if she were a criminal arraigned before a court of justice, or a child accused of petty theft. Face to face with her stepmother, what could she say? Perhaps she could avoid the subject altogether? No, that would never be possible. Mama Agnes was far too direct and once a subject was raised between them there would be no getting away from it. Very well then, if there had to be a battle there would be a battle, and even though at a disadvantage she would fight to the last for the right to remain true to her own feelings and faithful to the man she loved. All she had to do was to remain steadfast. It would not be easy because Mama Agnes would never understand — and if she did not understand she would not forgive either. But perhaps all was not lost. After all, Papa loved her, and when his first rage was over things always got better!
Klara was excited, but feeling she needed a few moments to get herself fully under control before she was subjected to the princess’ questioning, she turned to the maid and said: ‘Ilus, why are you always so sad these days?’ She did not know why she had said this. It had not occurred to her before but as she spoke she realized that it was true and that for some time the girl had not been her normal carefree self. How odd that she should only have noticed it when she was in trouble herself.
The little maid glanced briefly up at her mistress and then lowered her eyes and said shyly: ‘I’m not, my lady, truly I’m not!’ but her eyes contradicted her denial. ‘People are wicked!’ she added unexpectedly.
Klara was startled and, feeling a sudden rush of kinship for the girl, said: ‘Are you in love, Ilus?’
‘Oh, no! How could I be? Oh, no! Not that, my lady!’ The girl blushed and her eyes looked even sadder.
Klara put her hand up to the girl’s face and gently stroked it, feeling how good it was to have a friend who shared her longing and her distress. It made her feel stronger merely to know that someone else was suffering. Straightening up Klara pulled herself together and walked boldly towards the door of her stepmother’s apartments.
The Princess Agnes’s bedroom in Budapest was much the same as her room in the country, the only difference being that whereas at Simonvasar everything was gold in colour, here it was all pink. Here too a sofa stood at the foot of the bed and from it the Princess would administer justice. She was seated on it now, looking stern.
‘Sit down, my dear,’ she said, pointing to a chair opposite her, ‘I want to ask you something.’ Klara sat down and waited. After a few moments’ silence the Princess said directly: ‘What happened yesterday between you and Montorio?’
‘Nothing,’ replied Klara. ‘Nothing really …!’
Princess Agnes raised one eyebrow in obvious disbelief. Narrowing her eyes she waited silently for Klara to say something more, knowing that if she said nothing the girl was sure to go on.
‘… only that after supper he asked me to go with him into the garden and I didn’t want to.’
‘And?’
The girl twisted her fingers together nervously. ‘That’s all… only that also … well, it might not have been proper …’
Princess Agnes shrugged her shoulders and for a moment there was a hint of an ironic smile on her lips. ‘Was that the only reason? Really?’ The coldness in her voice showed her contempt for an obvious lie.
‘Yes, and because I didn’t want …’
‘What didn’t you want?’
‘Nothing! I just didn’t feel like it!’
There was silence again, the princess remaining, if possible, almost more rigidly immobile than before.
‘It’s not like you, Klara, to be so stubborn, yes, stubborn and unco-operative — not with me! After all, I am your mother, if not in nature in every other way.’
Klara blushed. This allusion to their relationship bothered her because it was true that Mama Agnes had always been to her everything that a mother should be. Even her real mother, whom she had never known, could not have been kinder.
‘I’ll tell you what happened,’ she said. ‘After supper he suggested … well, I felt that if I went out with him he would propose. I felt it would encourage him, and so I didn’t …’
‘Did he give you any hint?’
Klara hesitated for a moment. She did not know whether she should tell the truth or not but hating to lie she said: ‘Yes. He said he wanted to ask me something important and I replied that there would be no point. I said that it would be useless!’ Now it was out, and there would be no going back. With a determined look on her face she looked straight into her stepmother’s eyes.
‘You said that? You dared to say that? You little fool, do you realize that you’ve thrown away all your chances? Why, in God’s name?’ The princess’s well-tended hands clenched into fists. She was so angry she nearly jumped up from the sofa. In a moment, however, she recovered her self control, and then laughed mirthlessly.
‘Why? I hardly need to ask when the whole town knows that you’re in love with that little Laci! Such folly! And all just because of little Laci, of all people!’ She laughed scornfully.
Hearing this mocking laughter, and listening to Princess Agnes’ patronizing words, Klara made up her mind. She stood up, faced her stepmother and said, calmly and firmly: ‘It’s true! I have decided to marry him. It’s settled.’ With deeper emphasis, the catch in her throat showing how much her whole being longed for love and sympathy and help, she went on: ‘You see, we love each other!’
‘I knew you had a crush on him. I guessed that a long time ago! But what about him? All the world knows that he’s Fanny Beredy’s lover! What a little hypocrite he is, carrying on like that while pretending to come courting you! Why, he hasn’t even enough conduite to do it discreetly!’
‘Countess Beredy?’
‘Who else? He dines there every Wednesday and goes calling in the afternoons. Everyone knows all about it, except you, my poor little Klara!’
The girl stood very straight in front of her stepmother.