Diana the huntress! thought Balint as the memory of his first image of her came strongly back to him. He moved forward to meet her and they kissed, his arms holding her tightly to him. He felt her lips on his, opening obediently as he had taught her, her body yielding to the pressure of his arms, though as they kissed Balint knew that her embrace was still that of an unawakened girl, virginal, ignorant, innocent of any passion or feeling other than the joy of meeting.
‘Let’s go deeper into the woods,’ he said. ‘People pass by here on the road.’
They walked back to the edge of the clearing. Abady spread his coat on the ground and they sat down.
‘So you are going away?’ said Addy. ‘For some time?’
Though she spoke sadly Balint could see that her eyes were still sparkling with pleasure at seeing him again.
Leaning back against the slope of the hill, Balint took her in his arms. Her head sank back against his shoulder, sweetly confident, and the curls of her loose hair gently tickled his face, his ears, his moustaches, until he felt that they had a life of their own as independent as starfish in the sea. Adrienne did not speak as Balint started to tell her all that had happened.
He began in the most matter-of-fact way, recounting the details of his mother’s illness and present condition, the doctor’s orders and the preparations for their departure. As he spoke so his hands began to caress her, firstly at the waist and then slowly down to her knees and back. Later his fingers reached the hem of her skirt and below, to the softness of her silken stockings and, as the movement of his hands took up a slow rhythm of their own so his words became more impassioned, colourful, warmer, themselves a caress. He talked of his deep love for her, the captivity of his soul, how whenever he saw something beautiful the picture of Adrienne’s face would rise up in front of him until he could see nothing but her golden eyes, raven hair and her generously curving, half-opened lips. As he spoke he would from time to time bend down and kiss those lips, fleetingly and without interrupting the flow of his words, beautiful words that sprang like sparks from the furnace of his desire, words that were transformed into a hymn of homage; and as he talked his hands, as if directed by a spirit independent of his own, found their own way, gently and carefully and ever more daringly, over Adrienne’s body. As they lay together on the slope of the hillside Adrienne’s skirt slid back from her knees and Balint’s rhythmically caressing hands reached ever higher on the thin silk of her stockings.
Adrienne did not move but leaned back against Balint’s shoulder. She seemed oblivious to everything but the gentle murmur of his voice, and the soft caresses of his hands over her body. It gave her a new and soothing feeling, something that she, who had never been fondled as a child or cherished as a woman, had not known before. Lulled, almost stunned, by Balint’s melodious words and the smooth regular strokes of his caresses, Adrienne did not notice that his hands, from moving softly over her dress and stockings, had now reached the naked flesh of her thighs.
The Balint who talked in such innocent, poetic phrases was miles away from the primitive male intent only on gaining his desires. Yet as he talked, stringing together such beautiful words, Adrienne became aware of his awakening desire. All at once she got up, her back stiff, her whole body rigid. She noticed that her skirt had slid up and, swiftly pulling it down, she stared at Balint with hatred in her eyes, her whole being poised for flight. It was exactly as she had been that time on the carpet in front of the fire in her drawing-room at Kolozsvar and when they were sitting on the bench her father’s garden.
Balint knew instantly that if he could not now regain her confidence then she would be for ever lost to him. Humbly, he acted as if he were offended and astonished by her sudden reaction and slowly, oh, so slowly, he coaxed her back into his arms stroking her always with quiet gentle hands, as one calms a frightened child, and telling her that if she allowed him to kiss her lips and neck, her shoulders, hands and arms, then she had nothing to fear if he touched her knees and even caressed her higher up and let him kiss her flesh there too. She must remember that he had promised that he would never demand more of her than she was ready to give and so, as a pledge of peace, he let his mouth slide up from her knee until, for a brief instant, he kissed a tiny spot of flower-petal skin above the top of her stocking. For an instant only, for Adrienne pushed him swiftly away and drew down the hem of her skirt; but as she did so she blushed like a young girl. Once more they leaned back against the soft earth and, though Balint felt his heart beating so strongly he thought it would burst, he continued his murmured litany of love until the creed of beauty with which he was always inspired whenever he found himself alone with Adrienne filled his soul with the blinding revelation that he must write down all his feelings and put them into a book. Even the title now came to him, Beauty in Action, and he decided there and then, that, while exiled on the shores of the Mediterranean, he would sit down and write it, pouring into his work all these feelings of love and ecstasy. After a few months he would return and lay his work at Adrienne’s feet as the proof that always, even though far away, her beauty haunted every hour and every minute of his day. His sentences would march to the rhythm of her own goddess-like stride and would be alive with the sheen of her alabaster skin, the curves of her lips and the wild flutter of her hair.
Over the trees, from the valley of the Almas, the faint sound of the faraway town clock told them that it was already midday. It was time for them to part and never before had they felt so close as now when they had to take leave of each other. Standing closely together at the edge of the forest they clung to each other for a long time. Then Balint fell to his knees and kissed her slowly from the waist, down her skirt and legs to her feet. Adrienne made no movement to stop him but stood there, with her knees slightly bent like the ancient statues of Greek gods, in marble immobility. To Balint her whole attitude seemed like the gift of an unspoken promise.
Eight days later Countess Abady and her son left Denestornya. When they boarded their sleeper at Kolozsvar the station was enveloped in rain and sleet. During the first part of their journey it started to snow heavily and at Banffy-Hunyad the train waited for some time while the snow-plough was fitted. During this stop Balint, who up until then had sat in his mother’s compartment chatting, got up and went into the corridor. He leaned out of the window to look at the snow and also to say a mute farewell to the station that was always associated with his visits to Adrienne. Thick snow flakes were falling, covering everything with a soft carpet of white. At Almasko it must be snowing too, thought Balint as he closed the window and went back to his own compartment to get ready for bed.
Up in the mountains it had been snowing hard for two days. Almasko was already blanketed in snow, as was the whole Kalotaszeg district. The wolves started to appear.
As soon as this was known to Honey, he cut up some goat meat and poisoned it with strychnine, threaded the pieces on lengths of wire and going to the edge of the forests, tied them to low boughs of pine and juniper. He covered the whole region, making sure the poison was placed wherever the presence of wolves had been reported, in the woods beside the waterfall in the district of Szentyisora and in the country around Pejkoja; everywhere that the wolves were known to gather. That night, his work finished, Honey returned to his forester’s hut in Scrind.