‘If you would be so good, please give this to the Countess, if she’s well enough, of course. If her Ladyship has an answer I shall be here, I shan’t move from this spot.’
The maid disappeared down the corridor. While waiting, Balint went over to one of the windows and looked out. All he could see was Countess Clémence walking in the gardens. That, at least, was a relief. The old woman was out of the way.
He had almost begun to lose hope of a reply when Jolan suddenly appeared at his side. She brought back the opened envelope on which Adrienne had scribbled in penciclass="underline" ‘In half an hour’, no more. He glanced at his watch, and continued doing so every few minutes until the half-hour had passed. Then, trying hard to walk slowly and composedly, he started towards the bend in the corridor. There was a door at the end of the wide passage and in front of this stood the maid, Jolan. When he reached it she opened the door swiftly and silently and Balint entered.
The shutters of the room had not been opened and the curtains too were drawn. The room was in almost complete darkness, a scented darkness which reminded Balint of the natural smell of almonds or carnations. It was strong but not artificial, not a manufactured perfume but rather the intimate female scent that both maddened and intoxicated, making Balint for a moment as giddy as if he had just swallowed a draught of strong liquor. After a few more moments his eyes became accustomed to the gloom and he could make out the outlines of Adrienne’s bed which was set between the dim vertical rectangles of two long windows.
The bed was very low and very wide, like a huge couch. It was covered with lace which fell in festoons to the floor on every side. Against the creamy-white of the bedclothes Adrienne’s loosened hair stood out like two raven-black triangles on each side of her face. Thus framed, Adrienne’s head had an oriental, almost Egyptian appearance. The bedcovers were pulled up to her chin so that her face seemed to float ethereally above the cascading froth of the lace pillows.
Balint had to muster all his will-power to keep control of himself. He had commanded himself to appear cool and matter-of-fact and he realized at once how necessary this was, for Adrienne’s eyes were wary, filled with a mixture of distrust, alarm, suspicion and fear that was almost menacing. So Balint spoke lightly, joked, kept his tone as natural as if he were in the presence of hundreds of other people at a ball, or chatting in drawing-rooms where wicked old ladies lurked trying to overhear something to gossip about.
‘What a scare you’ve given us all! How could you? You must have been a little crazy!’
A little smile crossed Adrienne’s face and she replied so softly that her words were like a reproachful caress: ‘Would you have preferred the more final solution?’
They went on talking for a few moments, but Balint was never afterwards able to recall what was said. It took all his strength to prevent Addy from seeing the force of the desire for her that raged within him. Somehow he managed to remain outwardly calm, for if he had for one moment allowed himself to show any real concern, he knew that he could not have contained himself. He saw the outlines of her body beneath the silken sheets and, so as not to shatter the spell, he made himself mask his desire by looking at her only through half-closed eyes. He tried to read her face, understand what that strangely joyous yet troubled expression really meant. She seemed filled with some unconscious joy that he found hard to interpret. Was she perhaps conscious all the same of how beautiful she was lying there — a mixture of happiness and sorrow, infinitely desirable, infinitely unattainable, forming a picture that he would never be able to forget but which would enslave him for ever and ensure that he never again thought of abandoning his pursuit? All this was mirrored in the huge amber-coloured eyes, the pale forehead and generous red lips. It would have been better if she had never let him into the intimacy of her room to see her lying there in bed, for she must have known that nothing would give him more pleasure than to remember her like that. Behind every other conscious feeling lay the unconquerable female instinct to attract and, at the same time, to reject.
Balint’s superficial calm had the effect of making Adrienne calmer too. Slowly, but without revealing the bare skin of her shoulders, she took one hand out from under the bed-clothes and held it out to him. For a moment he held it.
This was the time to leave. He bent down, his face still expressionless, to kiss her mouth. For a brief instant he saw the alarm in her eyes but this vanished at once when Balint kissed her carefully, coolly, almost like a brother. Then he went swiftly to the door and turned, speaking for once in English just as she had ended her last letter to him: ‘Sincerely yours,’ he said, but he said it as if the old formal letter-ending phrase symbolized eternal fidelity.
In the corridor he was dazzled by the brightness of the morning. He felt he would go blind, not, however, from the myriad reflections of the sun through the windows but from the even brighter image that would now never leave him: the image of an Egyptian face framed by unruly black curls and two huge eyes, lovely, frightened and frightening, glowing like topazes in the darkened room.
Balint got back to his room without being seen by anyone. Then he went to look for the old countess and by the time he found her he had sufficiently recovered his equilibrium to be able to chat insipidly with her until the butler announced that the carriage at the door.
Then he took his leave, leapt into Uzdy’s bricska and was whisked rapidly away towards Banffy-Hunyad. It was only now, when he was past all danger of discovery and the American carriage horses were racing him up-and downhill, through the valleys and over the mountainous ridges, that the passion raging within him started to abate. He felt that he was flying with wide spread wings high above the world, above woods, forests, meadows, rivers, his lungs full of ozone, his blood racing. He felt that he had just quaffed an enchanted potion whose venom fanned flickering flames in his veins that burned away all sense of caution and forever freed him of that restraint which his inner voice so often told him he must obey. Now he was once again that primeval being who knows only how to follow his instincts, the predator who seeks his mate and for whom no obstacle, law or convention will be allowed to obstruct the natural course of his desire, that animal in whom passion rages unchecked and who, if need be, will kill to achieve his object.
And Balint’s mind was suddenly filled with disturbing erotic fantasies.
PART SIX
Chapter One
IN THE AUTUMN OF 1905, as in other years, the social scene came slowly back to life. A few theatres opened their doors, a few concerts were announced. Among the first to return to their town houses was Countess Beredy, who had little liking for the country and even less for her husband’s country house. She would never stay there a day longer than was necessary. On arrival in the capital Fanny immediately resumed her Wednesday dinners; for her court, Szelepcsenyi, d’Orly and the others, knew what was required of them and were already back in Budapest when she arrived.
Fanny now had one guest fewer, for she did not trouble to replace Warday. The ritual was the same, except that now it was Laszlo who would take his departure before the other guests, murmuring some excuse and leaving the room about half an hour before the others. He would put his coat on at the top of the staircase and then slip through a little door covered by a curtain just opposite the head of the stairs. Behind was an anteroom with doors to left and right: the left led to a servants’ staircase, the right to Fanny’s apartment. Laszlo would step quickly through Fanny’s door and, once inside, bolt it carefully, for Fanny had given instructions that had to be obeyed most faithfully. The reason was that under no circumstance must he be seen by anyone, and if the bedroom door had not been bolted it was always possible that Fanny’s maid might have wished to come in for some reason. If she did she would find him there and know for certain that Fanny had a lover.