‘A young girl like that? What does she know about love?’ Fanny spoke scornfully. ‘The choice isn’t hers anyway. She’ll marry whoever is chosen for her. She may protest a bit, but in the end she’ll do whatever Agnes decides. And Agnes, as you know, is a terrible snob!’
‘That’s what I thought, too.’
‘There you are, you see! As far as Agnes is concerned, our good Laszlo is nobody — Niemand. She wouldn’t care if one of us eloped with the chauffeur, but her daughter will only marry the man she chooses!’
The thought seemed to give Fanny pleasure, though for what reason only she could tell, and she adjusted the lace shoulder-straps which, as they often did, had slid down her bare arms.
The Gentlemen’s Ball always finished early. After being on parade from noon most of the guests were tired and disinclined to dance until dawn. By three o’clock in the morning everyone had gone and Laszlo, who had to remain to say goodbye to the last guests, decided to go on to the Casino.
On arrival he found that the gamblers were still playing. As always on the night of the big race, the room was crowded and the play was higher even than usual. Bets of many thousands of crowns were being laid on the table and the atmosphere was fraught with ill-feeling. There were so many onlookers that it was not easy for Gyeroffy to get near the table. When he finally managed this a place was at once offered to him, as it was an unwritten law that room should always be found for a gambler as famous as Laszlo.
Laszlo refused the offer. ‘No, thank you,’ he said. ‘I’m not staying.’ For a few moments he stood there watching the play, then turned and left the room.
‘He must have a girl waiting for him!’ said somebody, for in that world la bonne fortune (an amorous rendezvous) was considered the only valid excuse for not joining in a game.
Laszlo went slowly down the stairs, through the halls of the Casino, hesitating as he went as if it were physically difficult for him to leave this sacred place. He then had himself driven to those cheap furnished lodgings which he had rented when he first came to Budapest to study and which he had never changed.
He went to bed, but did not sleep as it was a long time since Laszlo had come home so early. As he lay stiffly on the narrow bed he seemed to become more and more awake. The day’s events went round and round in his head. Klara… his promise, ah, that he had to keep and would keep. It would be vile not to do so! But what about the ball? She must have understood that he couldn’t get near her as he had been commanded to partner one of the young archduchesses in the quadrille, an honour that no one could refuse. He recalled seeing Klara supping with Warday not far from the royal table where he sat. They had been chatting vivaciously enough. No doubt that dimwitted farmer had been entertaining her with tales of muck-spreading and ergot in the wheat, thought Laszlo bitterly. Or had Klara been teasing him as she had Montorio two days before? Oh Klara! Klara! He had been dying to dance with her but his duties as elotancos, especially with the royals present, meant that he had been occupied the entire evening and it had seemed he would never even get close to her. Even when, just after the last figure of the quadrille, he had managed to get near her with his specially large saffron-coloured bouquet, she was already being so inundated with the favours brought to her by others that he couldn’t even exchange a word with her, not a single word! How could the Kollonichs leave him out of one of their big dinners when they had always before insisted he must be there? It was obvious that this had been done on purpose so that they should not have a chance to speak to each other. Would this always be the same? It would be dreadful if there should never be an end to it!
Laszlo felt that he must find a way to communicate directly with her, but how? It wouldn’t be possible through Peter; he’d never go against his mother. Niki was out of the question; he was no friend to Laszlo. Then Laszlo remembered the little maid who had brought Klara’s letter. What was her name, Ilus Varga? Was that what the concierge had said when he brought up the letter after telling the girl that she could not go up to Laszlo’s flat as he had given orders not to be disturbed? He would write a line to her to give a message to her mistress that she must find a way to see him.
By noon the Casino was already full to overflowing. Even the great glass-covered veranda was packed with people. After their lunch Balint and Laszlo went into the empty billiard-room.
At once Balint started off severely. Laszlo must be out of his mind, he said. If he went on like this he would be ruined, and then nothing would save him from a shameful life of depravity. Already it was obvious that he was spending far more than his respectable but by no means large fortune could provide, and if he went on gambling, everything he had would disappear. It was madness, sheer madness!
Laszlo listened to him and smiled, conscious that in a moment or two he would demolish all his cousin’s arguments with a single word.
‘Now you must swear not to gamble anymore!’ said Balint. ‘Promise me!’ and he put his hand on Laszlo’s shoulder in a gesture of sympathetic entreaty.
‘I have nothing to promise,’ replied Laszlo, ‘as I don’t gamble any more!’
‘Not possible? Since when?’
Laszlo laughed awkwardly. ‘As it happens, only since yesterday. Last night, this morning, I didn’t join the game. I promised somebody!’
‘Who? When?’
‘Somebody … somebody who is even dearer to me than you, yes, even dearer than you!’
Balint realized that it must be Klara of whom he spoke.
‘So much the better then. It’s a pity it came so late, but no matter! I’m very glad, and I’m sure you’ll keep your promise. But look here, my dear fellow, stop this stupid life at once. If you go home now, immediately, it’ll be all the easier to make the break. It’s a dreadful habit and very hard to resist.’
‘Don’t worry, I can do it!’
‘You’d better,’ said Balint grimly. ‘Habit is strong and when everyone around you … Look! The Burian talks will end today — they’re quite futile anyway, or so I hear — and the House will be adjourned. I’ll go with you to Transylvania tomorrow. We’ll travel together. I’d be happy to do it!’
‘No! I can’t leave yet. You must understand. Not yet, not while they are still here. At the end of the season, when everyone goes. In ten or twelve days. Then I’ll go.’
‘Better to go at once, while your mind is still made up. I’m really very worried about you.’
‘It’s impossible! I can’t leave now because of something quite different. But immediately afterwards, then I’ll go. I swear it.’
They got up and shook hands. Laszlo, in mock reverence, clicked his heels and gave a military salute.
‘This is how I will announce myself. Melde gehorsamst — reporting for duty, Sir!’ And with this he turned around and hurried away.
Three days went by during which Laszlo hardly saw Klara, and when he did it was always in a crowd where they would have been watched. The princess, guarding her stepdaughter like a detective on duty, was never far away from her. Three days, three bad days, during which Laszlo heard that they had been to some gathering in the woods on the Margit Island or spent an evening at a country-house not far from the city, excursions from which Aunt Agnes had been careful to arrange his exclusion.
It was more than Laszlo could bear. Somehow he would have to get word to Klara to meet him or he thought he would die of agony and frustration. If only he knew where she was and what they all were doing, then at least he might be able to catch a glimpse of her.