Poor, poor Judith … to be waiting for Wickwitz!
What could he possibly do? Should he go to her and tell her the truth? She would never believe him and was sure to assume that he had made it all up, and God knows what she would do then! It was a pity that he had no way to warn Adrienne of what was happening, but it was already after four and if he were to return to the villa, he would have to do so on foot, for at that early hour there were no fiacres available and it would soon be dawn and someone was sure to see him. Best, perhaps, to stay where he was and speak to Judith only after the express to Budapest, which was to have taken Judith and Wickwitz on the first stage of their journey to Graz, had already left. Then he would not have to explain anything for the facts would speak for themselves: and what hideous, vile facts they were!
Slowly the station came to life. A locomotive could be heard shunting in the marshalling yards. Then there was a plaintive whistle and a goods train rumbled slowly by the sooty windows of the station. Some lamps were waved at the end of the platform and a market train came slowly to a halt, from which third-class passengers emerged carrying heavy loads on their shoulders.
Then dawn came, and dim light began to filter on to the platform. The carriages for the Budapest train were shunted in and a few sleepy passengers began to arrive. Soon the platform was crowded.
Bells rang in the waiting rooms and a porter started shouting: ‘Nagy-Varad, Puspokladany, Szolkok, Budapest!’ in a slurred voice, and people began boarding the train. Balint watched Judith from a distance. She did not move but, as time went by, she obviously became more and more restless. Her hands were clenched nervously on the handles of the bag on her lap. When the second bell sounded she came out on to the platform, brushing by Balint without seeing him, her eyes searching down the length of the platform. She looked into the train and then into the first-class waiting room. Finally Balint could stand it no longer. He stepped over to her and touched her arm. The girl started violently.
‘Judith! The man you’re looking for left yesterday!’ he said.
Judith stared at him, eyes wide open as if she had seen a ghost, her mouth distorted with hatred.
‘You? You here? Everywhere it’s you!’
Balint repeated what he had just said.
‘Who? What are you saying? Left yesterday?’
The carriage doors were being slammed shut. There was a blast from the locomotive’s whistle and the train started to move. The girl looked wildly around her, then she ran forward a few steps but the train gathered speed and moved off down the track. Her hopes vanished as she looked vainly after the disappearing train and her knees gave way under her. She would have fallen if Abady had not quickly put his arms round her waist and supported her.
‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘There’s no point in standing about!’
He led her swiftly out of the station and into a one-horse carriage which he found waiting there. ‘To the Monostor road. I’ll tell you where later,’ said Abady to the driver.
Until now Judith had let herself be led without seeming to notice what was happening. The shaking of the carriage soon brought her to her senses. When she saw who it was sitting beside her, she shrank back into the corner of the carriage, her eyes filled with fright like a wild bird caught in a trap. She stared into Abady’s face with a look of surprise and loathing and as they drove her gaze never wavered, so hard was she looking at him. Petrified, unable to speak, she just stared at him as the carriage rumbled slowly down the long road to the Uzdy villa. Twice Abady tried to explain that he himself had just been going to catch that train when he had chanced to see her, but he faltered, unable to continue, faced with the look in those wide-open eyes.
When at last the carriage stopped in front of the wrought-iron gates of the Uzdy villa, Judith was still staring at him in silence.
Balint did not know what to do next. It was only now that they had reached the girl’s home that he realized how awkward it would be if he were to be caught bringing home one of the Miloth girls at dawn. How could he possibly smuggle her into the house without being seen by the servants, who must at that time be stirring? To be discovered now would provoke God knows what gossip!
He need not have worried, thanks to Margit’s quickness in grasping what had happened. Margit had woken just as dawn was breaking. She saw at once that Judith’s bed was empty. She had dressed quickly and run down to Adrienne who had told her of the dramatic turn in the story, of the duel between Laszlo and Wickwitz and how Wickwitz had left town suddenly. Sensibly Margit did not enquire how Adrienne knew all this, but she quickly realized though she had not herself seen it, that Zoltan, who had come to see them in the morning, must had brought a message for Judith and that Judith must have tried to follow their prepared plan and slipped away to the station in the night. It was there that they must look for her.
As Adrienne was dressing hurriedly Margit went to find the Uzdy doorman and sent him to find a fiacre, and she was therefore waiting for it to arrive when the one-horse carriage bringing Abady and Judith drew up before the gates. She ran out, helped her sister out of the carriage, kissed her swiftly and led her into the house without saying a word.
All this was done so rapidly that none of the Uzdy servants were aware that anything untoward had happened to Judith. So resolutely and sensibly did Margit act that neither then nor ever afterwards did anyone in the house except Adrienne and Margit — nor anyone in the great world outside — ever hear even a whisper of Judith’s attempted escape.
If Judith Miloth was spared the town’s gossip, poor little Dinora Abonyi was not, and her part in the Wickwitz débâcle was quickly the talk of Kolozsvar.
Outside the family the only people to know the truth — Abady, Gyeroffy and Kadacsay — kept their mouths shut and said nothing. And yet, within the space of two weeks everyone knew all about Dinora and her promissory notes.
Aunt Lizinka’s overheated and airless drawing-room was the Solfatara — the sulphurous volcano — from which most of the poison gas was distributed abroad. Recently the old Countess Sarmasaghy had occupied herself principally with the so-called ‘Tulip Drive’. This was the new craze from Budapest where a number of grand society ladies had started a movement to buy only Hungarian-made articles. Though everyone convinced themselves that thereby they were striking a body-blow at the industries of Austria, and the capital rang with patriotic speeches and fervent leading articles in praise of the movement, the fact remained that it had little practical effect. Shopkeepers cunningly pretended that all their fabrics were made in Hungary, whether or not the silk was really manufactured at Lyons and woollens and linen in Austria. In Transylvania the vogue did not catch on as it did in the capital, for everyone had always bought their rich trousseaus and grand dresses in Vienna as things were cheaper there than in Budapest, and they were not going to change just because someone in Budapest said they should. In the past, Aunt Lizinka had done the same. However, learning that her archenemy Miklos Absolon bought his boots from Goisern, his suit-lengths from Tyrol and his sporting guns from Springer, she threw herself into the Tulip Drive principally so that she could accuse him publicly of being a traitor to his country.