The result of the national elections was that the party which had governed Hungary since 1878 found itself in the minority. In the shock of surprise with which this news was everywhere greeted no one was more taken aback than the leaders of the former opposition who had now been placed in the uncomfortable position of having to make good their extravagant promises. Everyone was filled with a sense of foreboding, for now a conflict between the Crown and Parliament seemed unavoidable.
The situation was so strange and so exciting that Balint decided not to resign his seat, no matter how it had been gained. He wanted to be there when battle was joined; perhaps after all he would be able to contribute something useful.
Chapter Two
AT THE BEGINNING OF FEBRUARY, soon after the elections, Carnival started in Kolozsvar. All the families with marriageable daughters opened their town houses and prepared, politics or no politics, to go to dances, give dances and generally do everything they could to create the necessary opportunities for the girls to meet the eligible young men.
The Miloth family were among the first to arrive, and Countess Miloth immediately started taking her two unmarried daughters to call on the dowagers. Sometimes they made as many as seven such visits in a day.
One of their first calls was naturally on the widowed Countess Abady who, though she never went out herself, was by rank and breeding the most distinguished lady in their social group. At four o’clock one afternoon therefore a footman entered Countess Roza’s sitting-room and announced that Countess Miloth had called, with her daughters.
‘Pray bring them up!’ said Countess Roza, gesturing to the footman to remove from the table in front of her the needlework with which she and her two companions had been occupying themselves, as well as the empty coffee cup that had remained there after Balint, a few moments before, had left his mother to make arrangements to visit the forests at Beles two days later. Mrs Tothy and Mrs Baczo disappeared silently through a side door as Countess Miloth, with Judith and Margit, was announced. After the usual ceremony of symbolic kisses between the two elder ladies and handkissing and bows on the part of the girls, the visitors seated themselves opposite their hostess, Countess Miloth flanked by her two offspring as was correct. An insipid and formal conversation was begun all about the new débutantes, and what dances and balls were to be given.
Next it was the turn of fashion. They were just wondering if boas or shawls should be worn and whether tulle was more suitable for young girls than muslin when these exciting topics were brought to an end by the unexpected entrance of Balint. It was not the custom for young men to be present during such calls, but from the window of his room he had recognized the big-boned horses he had seen on the road to Var-Siklod, so saying to himself that he really should go and greet the Miloths as he had been their guest in the autumn, he had returned to his mother’s sitting-room.
Countess Miloth was agreeably surprised, assuming at once that he must be interested in one of her girls — but was it Judith or Margit? She forced a welcoming smile on her normally sour face and went on talking about the balls to be given. It was lucky for her younger daughters, she said, that Adrienne would be able to chaperone them as she herself could never stay up so late!
‘Is Adrienne in town?’ asked Countess Roza politely.
‘Not yet; I don’t expect the Uzdys until the day after tomorrow. But it doesn’t matter as there won’t be any dances before that.’ She went on to explain that Adrienne would be staying with her mother-in-law at the Uzdy house out on the Monostor road, where the old lady had already arrived with Adrienne’s child and the English nanny. A ground-floor wing of the house had been put at the Adrienne’s disposal for the season.
‘What a long way out!’ exclaimed Countess Roza who rarely moved and for whom almost any distance seemed too far.
‘Not too much, really,’ said Countess Miloth. ‘Anyhow they’re bringing two carriages so they’ll manage all right.’
After this exchange, which told Balint all he wanted to know, the talk returned to the absorbing topic of clothes and the young man took his leave, explaining that one of his forest wardens was waiting to see him. As he left Margit looked up with a tiny smile at the corner of her mouth.
The ranger was waiting in the hall.
‘What’s the road like to Beles?’
‘It’s quite passable from Hunyad to Kalota, my Lord. That’s because it gets a lot of use. From there on there’ll be snow drifts. Packed snow’d be better!’
‘Why?’
‘Well, the runners cut deep into soft snow, ‘specially when the road’s uphill. But no matter, your Lordship, we’ll make it, even if we do go a bit slow, as you might say. The day after tomorrow then, Sir, at midday…?’
Balint thought for a moment. ‘Perhaps the road will improve if we wait? What do you think?’
‘Next Thursday, my Lord?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I’ll send word when I’m ready.’
Balint spent the next few days in seeing that he had everything he would needed for a winter trip to the mountains. He was fairly well provided, having spent a year in Stockholm where winter sports were beginning to be all the rage, but some things had to be bought. Three days after the Miloths had visited his mother, he caught sight of Adrienne coming out of one of the shops in the main square. Though she was still far away he recognized her at once from her long swinging stride. She was deep in conversation with two young men, Adam Alvinczy and Pityu Kendy, both of whom carried skates slung over their shoulders. In addition Adam carried a picnic basket and another pair of skates while Pityu had a fur rug in one hand and a thermos flask in the other. They were chatting gaily.
For a moment Balint wondered if Adrienne were still angry with him but, even as the thought flashed across his mind, she had stopped in front of him and was holding out her hand: ‘Here I am!’ she said happily, her golden onyx eyes full of light and welcome. It was as if the scene on the bench had never happened.
‘We’re going skating. The ice must be wonderful.’
‘But it’ll soon be dark!’
‘All the better; nobody’ll be there! What’s the matter? Do you think it’s not “done”?’
‘Not at all!’
‘We’re going to have tea there, on a bench beside the lake. Any nasty suspicions must freeze into nothing at ten below zero, isn’t that so, Adam Adamovitch?’ She lifted her aquiline nose at Alvinczy, whose father was also called Adam and who was then engrossed in reading Russian authors. She laughed provocatively.
‘What a pity you don’t skate, AB! It’s marvellous!’
‘But I do! I learned in Sweden.’
‘Come with us then! Do!’ said Addy with sudden warmth. ‘You won’t regret it … and you’ve never seen me on the ice!’
‘All right, but I must go home and get my skates. I’ll join you there.’
Balint walked home as quickly as he could, but it took him some time to find his things and when he had finally discovered where his boots, jerseys, trousers and woollen stockings had been hidden it seemed almost too late to go and join the others. Still a promise was a promise, and she did seem to have forgiven him …
It was dark when Balint arrived at the park. The frozen lake was surrounded by a railing over which hung a few lighted lanterns. He bought his ticket and entered the enclosure. There were only few people there apart from one or two beginners who were practising with wicker chairs to hold them up, and who did not venture far from the little pavilion, but he could see Adrienne and the two young men gliding about on the far side of the lake. One of them had paid a man with an barrel organ to play to them and he was grinding out an ancient waltz which had once been the rage of Vienna. On it went, the tune endlessly repeating ‘Nur …für Natur …hegte Sie … Sympathie …’, and to this old melody they waltzed in wide figures of three, leaving behind them faint white furrows cut in the ice.