This was why he was so pleased to see Balint again, why he had squeezed his arm in friendly greeting when Balint had sat down next to him under the lime tree. Since they had both been young, since as long as he could remember, Balint had been his only true friend, who understood him and from whom he hid nothing, and so when, as the twentieth century approached, they talked of their futures it was only to Balint that Laszlo confessed his determination to be a musician.
To Balint he poured out his seemingly fantastic hopes of writing great operas and symphonies that would seduce the whole world. And to Balint too he had recounted all his difficulties with his Uncle Staniszlo Gyeroffy who the court had appointed to be his legal guardian until he came of age. Uncle Staniszlo, who was no real uncle but only a distant relation, had absolutely vetoed Laszlo’s musical studies and forced him instead into the law school. There had been a stormy scene between them when he had left school, and Laszlo had then recounted to Balint his deep resentment when the old man had said: ‘While I am your guardian I won’t allow anything so idiotic. When you’re of age you can do any foolishness you like!’ Laszlo was recalling all this as he stepped down into the rose garden. Balint turned to him, as if in answer to his thoughts, and asked:
‘You came of age last March. What are you going to do?’
‘I’m entering the Academy of Music in Budapest. I’m going back in a few days.’
‘And the university exams?’
Laszlo laughed. ‘Devil take them! What do I care? I’m going to do what I want at long last. I only came here to take over the estate. And that’s a nasty business I can tell you … and very complicated if you have to deal with old Carrots …’ This was Laszlo’s nickname for his guardian who always wore an obvious red-blond wig.
‘Why complicated?’
‘Oh, Lord! He says he’s invested a lot of his own money in the property and he wants to be paid back before he’ll hand it over! Not that I’ve got any money … none at all. All I’ve got is debts! Don’t worry. I’ll sort it out somehow,’ said Laszlo, laughing …
‘Debts?’
‘Not many. A few thousand crowns … to a money-lender, of course. I couldn’t live on what old Carrots allowed me.’
‘Well, you’ll have to settle them. There’s nothing worse than owing money.’
‘Oh, I will. Somehow. Everything would be quite simple if I could sell the wood from my part of the Gyeroffy forests. The problem is that I only have a one-third share with Uncle Staniszlo … and he’s got other plans, some sort of industrial project he’s dead keen on, the stubborn old fool! Oh! For heaven’s sake let’s not talk about anything so boring! I’m so glad to see you, Balint!
And taking him by the arm, he started to tell him how he had been received by the music professors, what they thought about his playing and what they had said about his compositions, some of which Balint had heard. Carried away by his enthusiasm Laszlo talked and talked as they walked up and down between the long-stemmed roses. It was almost dark. Only in the western sky was there still a rose-red glow, while in the east the moon rose, so full and bright that deep shadows were cast by the castle walls, enveloping the garden where they talked.
As Laszlo and Balint passed the entrance to the castle they met a group of guests descending the steps. They were already dressed for the evening, the women in low-cut gowns and the men in stiff shirts which shone white in the moonlight like shooting targets. Though they were silhouetted against the sunset Balint saw at once that among them was Adrienne Miloth. Her face was in shadow, but he could not fail to recognize her Diana-like stride and the outline of her head with the wavy dark hair weaving wild arabesques around the perfect oval of her face. She had her two sisters with her and they were accompanied by two young men.
Balint’s first reaction was to move away, to avoid them — an inexplicable subconscious reflex that lasted but a moment. Adrienne came calmly towards him, without quickening her pace, her beautifully formed mouth in a wide and generous smile. She put out her hand, saying:
‘How marvellous to find you here, AB!’ This was what he had always been called in Transylvania: ‘Look! I’ve dwindled into a chaperon! I’m responsible for these two now!’ and she put her arms round the shoulders of her two younger sisters, who were both extremely pretty and slightly shorter than Adrienne.
The two young men came up to join them. One was Akos, the youngest Alvinczy boy. Balint did not know the other, who turned to him and clicked his heels in a formal soldierly manner.
‘Egon Wickwitz,’ he said, and bowed. He was the unknown man Balint had seen in the Miloths’ carriage. Shaking hands, Balint looked him over, trying rapidly to assess him.
Baron Wickwitz was tall and good-looking, with the wide shoulders and narrow hips of an athlete. The impression of an inverted triangle was emphasized by the line of the stiff white dress shirt and outlined by the sloping lapels of his black tailcoat. He was dressed with meticulous care, as if he were not entirely at ease in such garb. Balint did not like this, and though he could not deny that Wickwitz was a handsome man, he did not like his face either. He had sad brown eyes, a long, narrow jaw and black hair that grew low on his forehead.
For a few moments they exchanged polite courtesies and then started to walk along the paths between the rose beds. Balint was in front with Adrienne, behind them Margit Miloth with Alvinczy and finally Judith with Laszlo and the Austrian.
‘Who is this nitwit?’ Balint asked Adrienne. She laughed.
‘It’s funny you should call him that. Everyone does, though you can’t have heard it anywhere. It’s very apt,’ and she added seriously, ‘but it shows how good-natured he is because he never seems to mind.’
‘Well then, who is this good-natured gentleman?’
‘He’s really very nice. Amateur rider — good all-round sportsman — an Oberleutnant in the Hussars and stationed at Brasso.’
‘Shouldn’t he be in uniform?’ Balint could not help sounding somewhat hostile.
‘He’s on long leave.’
As they walked on in silence Balint found himself more and more in the same groundless, aggressive mood that he had felt each time he had met Adrienne since her marriage.
‘And he’s your latest flirt, is he?’ he asked offensively.
‘Not actually mine … though they do say he’s paying a lot of attention to your old flame, the pretty Dinora!’
Coming from Adrienne this was most unexpected. In the old days she had never given any sign that she even knew of his passion for the little Countess Abonyi. Balint veered away from the subject.
‘He seems to speak Hungarian quite well.’
‘That’s because his mother came from Hungary; from Bihar, I fancy.’
‘He’s got cow’s eyes!’
Adrienne laughed again, lightly.
‘Does it matter? He’s not overburdened with brains!’
Suddenly the peace of the garden was shattered by a shrill peal of bells from inside the castle. Cling! Clang! Clang! Cling-Clang! The rhythmic carillon announced that dinner would be served in half-an-hour’s time. Balint and Laszlo ran, because they still had to change. The others walked slowly towards the house.
Chapter Three
IN THE GREAT HALL on the first floor, which stretched right from the facade to the rear of the building, a large table was laid for forty guests. Countess Laczok sat with her back to the balcony at one end of the great table; Count Jeno sat opposite her at the other.
The older guests, with one exception were all seated in order of precedence on each side of the host and hostess. The exception was the Prefect, who was seated on Countess Ida’s right, in the place of honour which by right should have been accorded to Crookface Kendy, who was not only older than Peter Kis but also a Privy Counsellor. So Crookface found himself on his hostess’s left. The reason was simple. The Prefect was not a man of their class; and this was underlined by giving him precedence.