‘What did you ask? Ah, yes, my mother-in-law!’ Adrienne laughed so mockingly that it might have been a pæan of triumph. ‘You know, AB, she too is quite, quite mad! She has decided to be en froid with God — not on speaking terms. I promise you it’s true! She’s not an atheist, not in the least! On the contrary, she’s a firm believer. But she became angry with God when her husband went insane and died despite all her prayers that he should be saved. She implored God, even made him some kind of vow; but God decided to take her husband all the same and she’s never forgiven him! Since those days she has never been to church and she never prays. In her bedroom the image of Christ is turned face to the wall. She has the priest brought here, as always; but it is only for Maier and some of the other servants. As for her, she wishes to show God that He is not welcome in her house because He was not obedient to her wishes.’
‘It’s very sad if what you say is true.’
Adrienne laughed cruelly. ‘She can’t bear it if anyone does anything that she herself has not decided and ordered. She didn’t succeed with Almighty God, and now she’s punishing Him for it!’
There were five at lunch, the three Uzdys, Balint and the priest. Before they sat down grace was said and Balint, remembering what Adrienne had told him, watched the old countess carefully. Indeed the dowager Countess Uzdy did not pray, nor join her hands, nor cross herself as the others did. She simply stood erect, her arms at her side, and stared at nothing. Her head, with its crown of thick white hair, was, if anything, held even higher than at other times.
The butler served the meal, as always in total silence.
The conversation was desultory. All Balint’s attention was concentrated on watching how the Uzdys behaved towards each other.
The atmosphere was strained, and there was an uneasy sense of pain in the room that was quite different from the last time Balint had been there. Most of the conversation was being carried by Adrienne, who talked more loudly than she usually did, apparently confident that thereby she could somehow defy her mother-in-law and dominate her husband. Uzdy was different too, more subdued and more attentive to his wife, as if he were now in some way subordinate to her, and was using his position to mediate between Adrienne and his mother. All this was barely perceptible but, to Balint’s heightened sensibility, it seemed painfully obvious that the relationship between husband and wife was no longer the same. It must be true then, what he had suspected and feared! This could be the only explanation. The woman in Addy had been set free at last. It must be that. It could only be that … and yet he could still hardly believe it. When he looked into Addy’s face, studied her laugh and the relaxed way she sat in her chair, he sensed that there was something else in her, something reckless and secret and determined, which called for some explanation that was not at all as simple as that he had worked out for himself. He noticed that from time to time Pali would look at him with an expression that seemed to combine mockery, condescension and — and this was the most offensive of all — something of pity.
When lunch was over Balint walked out on to the terrace with Adrienne.
‘I will take you to the ruins,’ said Addy. ‘Then you’ll see what a wonderful view there is from there.’
Uzdy started off with them, but left them as soon as they reached the lower door of the Swiss wing. ‘I’m sorry not to be able to go farther with you,’ he said, ‘but I have to copy out the daily estate reports.’ Balint looked at him enquiringly. ‘You see, every day each of the estate’s managers and agents brings me his report — about weather, fodder for the animals, the work done by the men we take on by the day, the milking, ploughing, maintenance, stock-breeding programme, everything that we do here. Each afternoon I collate it all into corresponding columns in a master register, and from these I work out the statistics. Of course it all makes a lot of paper-work for me, but it does mean that I know everything that is going on, even when I’m not here. This keeps everyone on their toes and afraid, and that is not only desirable but absolutely necessary!’
He laughed and said goodbye: ‘I leave Adrienne in your charge. I know that with you she’s in good hands, the best, the most expert of hands! So I know you’ll take good care of her, naturally, of course!’
He started to mount the creaking stairs with slow ponderous steps. Then, from above he called out to them once more: ‘Go ahead! Walk! Walk! It’s very good for you, the more the better! Of course, naturally! Go on! Walk!’ and his figure disappeared into the darkness of the stairway.
It took Balint and Adrienne just over half an hour to reach the ruins. They first arrived at a giant doorway hewn from the natural rock by masters of a long vanished era. A grassy road now passed that way between perpendicular stone walls over three metres high. This road led to Nagy-Almas and to get to the ancient fortress itself one had to follow a narrow path which wound its way diagonally up the steep cliffs that dominated the valley and on top of which the castle had been built. At the top was a grassy meadow which surrounded the ruins.
On their walk neither Balint nor Adrienne had felt like talking. Addy had asked him if he had brought the pistol with him and after he had confirmed that it was in his pocket they had not spoken again until they were almost in the shadow of the castle’s crumbling walls. Then, when they sat down together on a fragment of old dressed stone Adrienne asked him to give it to her. Balint took from his pocket a small tooled leather case and opened it. Inside lay the little Browning and fitted beside it were two loaded cylinders and slots for reserve bullets.
‘Oh, how pretty it is!’ cried Adrienne, like a small child seeing a new toy for the first time. She took the weapon from its case with practised hands, for she had often shot with Uzdy’s revolvers, and inspected it with a most professional air. Then she slid one of the cylinders into place and clicked back the safety-catch. ‘I’ll try it at once,’ she said. ‘I want to see what it can do!’ She took aim at the trunk of a nearby oak tree, which stood some ten paces away, and fired. The bullet tore a narrow yellow wound in the tree’s bark. ‘It’s good. Thank you so much, it was sweet of you to get it for me.’
Balint was still searching for that knowing ironic phrase which would tell Adrienne that he had understood the change in her and that no one was going to make a fool of him. The right words would not come, and though he tried to force himself to speak lightly, as if it were all a huge joke, what came out sounded hard and slightly offensive. ‘And for what joyous family feast is this little present intended?’
‘Present? For whom?’
‘Why, for your beloved husband I presume!’
‘No! No! No!’ Adrienne burst out laughing. ‘You thought that … You thought … You really believed … for Pali Uzdy?’
‘But in your letter, you wrote that you wanted to surprise him.’
When she finally managed to control her laughter Adrienne turned back to Balint. Looking straight at him she put the little weapon carefully away in its case and then said: ‘I only meant it would be a surprise for him. Of course I see it could be understood differently, but I had to be rather vague. You would never have bought it for me if … well, if I had written the truth!’