‘No! No! No! It’s not true. I know him and I know all about it. He’s been there a few times but it’s not like that! He’s not involved with Fanny Beredy at all. He doesn’t love anyone but me and he’s loved me for years and years. He’s always loved me, I know! And he’s true to me. What you say is all a lie!’
‘My dear girl, I don’t listen to gossip. I know all about it from a most reliable source. Old Szelepcsenyi told me. He knows what goes on in that house if anyone does. He’s an intimate friend of Fanny’s. You can rely on anything he says.’
‘It’s not true! Everyone’s against Laszlo!’
‘Szelepcsenyi didn’t tell me out of spite. He thought Laszlo had all the luck!’
‘It’s all nasty wicked slander, yes, slander. They’ve just invented it.’
‘Invented it? That’s quite enough!’ said Princess Agnes, interrupting her and getting up at the same time. ‘Don’t you dare speak to me in that tone! We’ll go and see your father immediately and you can tell him what you have done and why. And I hope you’ll behave to him in a calmer manner than you have to me!’ With this she swept out of the room like a battleship in full sail. Klara followed.
Louis Kollonich was in his smoking-room. He was walking up and down with a dead cigar in his mouth and repeatedly looking at his watch. It was past the hour when luncheon was usually served and he was both hungry and impatient.
As soon as Princess Agnes and Klara entered the room, he said: ‘Na! Wird denn niemals serviert — What! Shall we never be served?’ When he was out of temper he always spoke in German.
His wife did not answer at once but sat down.
‘Lieber Louis,’ she said formally. ‘Klara has something to say to you. Yesterday she turned down Montorio whom you had selected for her!’
‘Was ist das für ein Blodsinn — what is all this nonsense?’ he shouted at his daughter.
Klara kept her head. She was defiant, but she spoke calmly and bravely. She said that she did not love Montorio and would not marry him. Her own life and happiness was at stake, she said, and she would only marry for love. If not, she would not marry at all. She knew she would never be happy again if she married Montorio … and that is why she had refused him.
‘Na, Meinetwegen — does no one think of me? And are they never going to serve lunch?’ was all that her father answered. Princess Agnes did not move.
‘That is not all,’ she said, and turning to Klara, she went on gently: ‘My dear, you had better tell your father what you told me. You owe it to him …’
‘Aber was ist denn noch — now what is it?’ asked Kollonich, by now thoroughly incensed and impatient to get all this talk done with so that he could get to table. He started to walk up and down the room again.
It was difficult to talk properly to someone who would not keep still, but Klara managed to speak firmly and stick to her guns — though she was afraid that she would not be able to remain adamant for long. She told her father that she was in love and that she was loved in return and that her only hope of happiness lay in marriage with the man she loved. In two weeks’ time, she reminded them, she would come of age and be free to decide her own fate, but all the same she begged them for their consent. After all, it was her future that was at stake, her life and no one else’s! Much of this was delaying tactics as, for some reason she could not quite explain to herself, she hesitated before telling him that it was Laszlo she loved.
‘Na, und wer ist der glückliche Jungling — and who is the happy man?’
The good Louis stopped suddenly in his tracks and stared hard at his daughter’s face. Klara looked him straight in the eyes.
‘Laszlo Gyeroffy!’
‘Wa-a-as? Der Laci! Dieser Kartenspieler — that gambler. Nichl umderWelt! — Never!’ shouted Kollonich even more angrily than before spinning round the room in his fury and pouring out a stream of abuse. ‘So einLump — what a scoundrel!’ he cried, telling Klara that he would have no gambler marrying into his family, to spend her fortune and then come to him to have his debts paid! How could she think of such a nobody? He shouted at her until Klara felt she could bear no more and sank into a chair crying into the cushions on the armrest. ‘HaterdieImpertinenz?’he yelled in her ear, ‘Has he dared to propose?’
Klara shook her head. ‘No, he hasn’t! But he’s only waiting for a sign from me. He wouldn’t dream of it until …’
‘Well, that’s one good thing, at least,’ said her father, still walking up and down and snorting with rage like a steam engine. Klara burst into loud sobs and, because Kollonich never could stand the sight of a woman in tears, he stopped walking about and came over to her, putting his hand gently on her shoulder.
‘Na! Na! Na! Don’t cry! I wouldn’t mind if he weren’t such a gambler but, God in heaven, a gambler!’ and rage came over him again. ‘Werden wir niemals essen?’ he shouted at his wife. ‘Will luncheon never be served?’
The princess pressed a bell on the table beside her. Szabo the butler came in almost at once.
‘Serve luncheon immediately!’ she said.
‘The first course is already on the sideboard, your Grace.’ Szabo bowed and disappeared.
‘Thank God!’ said the prince, and started at once for the door not even pausing for his wife to precede him. As they walked swiftly through the great reception rooms, Klara surreptitiously wiped her eyes so as not to show anyone else that she had been crying.
There were no guests that day and so the only others at table were her brothers, Niki and Peter. They could not fail to notice that some drama had been going on and Niki, always mischievous, did his best to find out what it was. Peter, who had a kind heart and loved his sister, tactfully started to talk to their father about shooting and quickly captured his attention. Without delay Prince Louis started telling them, for the third time, how a few days before he had finally killed the great roebuck they had so often stalked in vain. And in a few minutes he had regained his normal good humour, aided, no doubt, by the excellence of the jellied Fogas pâté, flavoured with smoked ham and flavoured with truffles, and his favourite Tournedos Rossini which followed it.
After lunch Klara went to her room. She washed her eyes and started to think, and the more she thought the calmer she became. The matter was by no means hopeless. Her father had had his tantrum and had made it clear that it was Laszlo’s gambling to which he had so strong an objection. If she could prove that Laszlo had given it up — and given it up for her sake — then surely they could no longer object to him. Of course it was always said that gambling was such an overriding passion that nothing could ever be done about it, but if he gave it up that would show them all that he was worthy of her. As for that wicked tale about him and Fanny Beredy, this would be proof that that was false too because he was true to her and to her alone. The solution to all their problems lay in Laszlo giving up cards … and showing the world that he did it for her!
Klara sat down at her little writing table and quickly wrote a note in her square slanting handwriting: ‘I’ve told them! It was quite dreadful! Try to get near me as if by chance at the races tomorrow, but keep away ’tilthen. I’ll finda wayto tell you there!’
Then she underlined ‘told’ and ‘chance’ before going to the bell and pressing it gently so that its ring would not be too loud. In a few moments Ilus opened the door and asked: ‘You rang, my Lady?’