Here in the deeply forested valley the dawn broke later than on the high mountains. Nevertheless the little party was early on its way. The going was hard, for many fallen trees, their trunks deeply buried in snow, blocked the way. Even so it was easier for the men than for the ponies, whose weight made every step hazardous. The calm and dexterity of the animals was extraordinary, impressing Balint with the skill with which they tentatively put down each hoof to be sure it was on solid ground and not in a snowdrift.
Balint, who was anxious to get the best view of the famous waterfall — famous even though it was so difficult to reach — started descending the steep side of the ravine with Stefan, Krisan and Todor Paven. Zutor he sent the long way round to meet them at the lower creek with the horses. To get down the almost vertical thickly wooded side of the canyon the men cut long fir branches which they used as ropes to lower each other over the snow-clad boulders. At last they reached the bed of the ravine which was so narrow that it was like a very deep well. It was almost dark as the sun never reached these depths, and on each side were nearly perpendicular stone cliffs which seemed black against the occasional patches of snow. The vegetation was dense and lush with hanging beards of moss, thick bunches of fern fronds which were now covered with tiny frozen droplets of spray that hung like ice-thorns in the still air. Though the waterfall could still not be seen, they were so close that at every step they were drenched by the spray, while the roar of the falling water echoed round them like thunder. Then, clinging to their long fir boughs and sliding, slipping through the snowdrifts, they rounded one more giant boulder and there it was, right in front of them, a huge arc of water springing clear from the rocks a hundred feet above.
Nothing interrupted the fall of the water: it was like a pillar of liquid bluish-green metal in front of the glistening black of the wet rock cliffsides, and from this dark mass rose white foam-crests of spray, which in turn were transformed into large droplets white as pearls that fell into the boiling swirling mass of water in the basin at the foot of the great fall. Sometimes a thread of water would break away from the central mass and seemed to hang quivering in the air until it too dissolved and merged with the rest. Immediately others would take its place springing out freely over the chasm below, endlessly repeated, endlessly varied, a constant picture of which the details were never the same from one moment to another. Underground springs fed the basin at the foot of the fall and even when in the air it was degrees below zero steam would mingle with the spray to form icicles which hung from every bow and every overhanging rock, so that the fall itself was framed by pillars of ice.
Balint was fascinated by the sight of the great surging energy and apparent will to live that was represented by all this turbulence at the heart of the silent, motionless frozen forest. In its own way it was like the soaring flames of the camp-fires, a force of nature, invincible, unquenchable, dominating all around by the sheer force of its blind progress to unknown but inevitable ends. Once again, as when Balint lay contemplating the fire so now, in front of the waterfall, Adrienne’s image was conjured up by the beauty and restless movement of uncontrolled nature. He could only think of the woman as once more he saw in his mind the image of her graceful form, her movements, the arc of her lips, and her impulsive, enchanting smile.
Angry at himself for allowing her image to pursue him, Balint turned away and hurried down to the edge of the basin below him. But the image did not disappear; so clearly did Adrienne remain in his mind that he began to wonder if he were bewitched. Dismayed, he asked himself why of all the women in the world he should have become obsessed by one so complicated and capricious.
Following the path beside the rushing water he decided that until he had freed himself from the torment of thinking of Adrienne he would do everything he could to avoid meeting her.
Chapter Four
A TELEGRAM WAS WAITING for Balint in Kolozsvar. Parliament had been recalled and he would have to leave at once if he were to be there for the formal presentation of credentials before the session opened.
His mother was upset. ‘You never spend any time with me,’ she complained. ‘It’s almost worse than when you were a diplomat!’ She made him promise to come back at the end of the month no matter what happened in the capital.
The atmosphere in Budapest was just as stormy as it had been the last time Balint had been there. The members of the coalition now in office were still delirious with pleasure at finding themselves in power and clung desperately to their election promises, insisting that no matter how they, and only they, would bring about the independence of the banking and customs systems and the national integrity of the army commands. But it was not to be as easy as the coalitionists imagined. There had been audiences with the monarch in Vienna; and Franz-Josef, in his capacity as King of Hungary, had rejected all their extremist demands. The crisis, therefore, was no longer that of opposing political ideals for now it had become constitutional, a conflict between the government and the crown with the various opposition parties jockeying for position in an undignified and confused scramble.
The first two meetings of the House passed relatively calmly, but at the third a storm broke out. In his opening speech the Minister-President made an outspoken indictment of all that had happened in the past. No party was spared, every word was an accusation, a battle cry. Uproar followed. After two more brief sittings the House was adjourned.
Only one event marked this brief and largely useless session, a sad, absurd, unnecessary and, had it not ended in tragedy, almost ridiculous incident.
One of the newly elected Members was old Istvan Keglevich who would have been Speaker of the House if Tisza’s party had won the election and so responsible for implementing the new Rules of Procedure which had been proposed in November. It was for this reason that, for the first time in his long life, he had accepted nomination as a parliamentary candidate.
Tisza himself had selected him for this difficult task because he had a commanding personality, and was forceful, courageous and daring. He also had a first class brain. He could be as merciless as a Renaissance tyrant prince, and as lordly, even though he had lost nearly all his once vast fortune in speculative economic and artistic ventures. The reason for this was simple: Keglevich was way ahead of his time and whether he planned improvements in planting forests, founding theatres or building distilleries, he always spent more than the budget and then met the losses from his private means until he had nothing left. At the time of his election he was Director of the State-owned theatres, an honorary post which he held with such distinction and efficiency that Franz-Josef had accorded him a state pension in lieu of a salary to which, as it was an honorary position, he was not entitled. In this situation the man-eating wolves among the Members of Parliament found a succulent morsel into which they could sink their teeth.
During the verification of the Members’ credentials an extreme left-wing member asked to be heard as soon as Keglevich’s name was mentioned. He accused him of being disqualified for membership of the House as he was a servant of the crown, a King’s man on the payroll of Vienna, and that this was not compatible with being a Member of Parliament. The Opposition went mad with joy. No one stopped to consider that as Keglevich had renounced the pension on his election there was no longer any incompatibility. They had found a whipping boy … and whip him they would!
From all sides of the House came hoots of derision and Balint was disgusted by the pleasure they seemed to take in sneering at and deriding this distinguished seventy-year-old man who might have been their Speaker.