Rattle’s triumph reached its peak when, towards dawn, they struck up an écossaise which, with the Lancers, had been the most popular dance when he was young and had organized the Carnival balls. Becoming very excited, he herded everyone in the drawing-room onto the dance floor and then burst into the card-room where Uncle Ambrus was busily engaged in emptying the younger men’s pockets.
‘Ecossaise!’ he roared. ‘Come on, my boys, all of you on your feet! This is no time for stupid cards!’
‘Still rutting, are you, you old lecher?’ said Ambrus, concealing with a roar of laughter his anger at having such a profitable game interrupted. Turning back to the table, he said: ‘Well? Who’s in the game? All right, I’ll raise it a hundred and sixty crowns! What? Nobody wants to see me? What a lousy lot of cowards you are!’ And he scooped up all the chips on the table. But, though he immediately dealt another hand, the zest had gone out of the game. The young men had had enough of being bullied into losing money and even Uncle Ambrus was unable to outshout old Rattle, who soon got them all on their feet and back into the ballroom.
Akos Alvinczy, who lost more than most, lingered behind the others. ‘Do you mind waiting?’ he said to Ambrus. ‘I’m a bit short at the moment …’
‘Of course, of course!’ said Uncle Ambrus, patting the tall young man on the shoulder. ‘Take a couple of weeks! I’ll wait that long, but no longer, mind! Then you must pay up, young fellow. I don’t lay golden eggs, you know!’ And, laughing in high good humour, he gave Akos a friendly punch on the arm and stumped off.
Akos stayed where he was for a moment, his handsome face clouded with worry.
Back in the ballroom the dancers had formed up for the écossaise and the dance was just starting when Rattle burst into the line, shouting: ‘Not like that! That’s not how you do it! You, young man! Let me show you!’, and seizing little Ida Laczok from Baron Gazsi’s arms he whirled her round the floor. ‘Right … Left … Right … Left …!’ and, with surprising agility for a man of his age, bounded about like a balloon with his niece on his arm. Then, leaving Ida at the end of a row of girls, he ran back to the two couples at the head of the set, showed them what they ought to be doing, made them do it again, sent them on their way, repeated the manoeuvre with the next two pairs, correcting errors, pulling, pushing and prancing about until everything was to his satisfaction. Then he made sure that the next figures were done right, now shouting: ‘La Coquette! Do the Coquette! Do La Souris!’ now clapping and bowing and waving encouragement. It was years since the humorous old dance had been given such life and, when it ended, he embraced his little niece with a huge bear-hug, the sweat from his black moustache dripping on to her cheeks. If little Ida was none too pleased, the same could not be said for old Akos Miloth who was happier than he had been for years. Panting heavily he collapsed into a chair beside Countess Kamuthy and, as soon as he had got his breath back, started again: ‘Do you remember, dear Aniko, how in our day…’
Dinora was standing at the buffet eating compote of oranges from a small glass dish. She stood alone because when she had arrived at the table the other ladies already grouped there all found various reasons why they should be somewhere else, anywhere, provided it was not beside Dinora Abonyi. One lady suddenly felt like sampling a galantine of chicken that sat temptingly on the other side of the table, another a fish salad she had caught sight of some way away, another a particularly luscious cake that was just out of each. So Dinora had eaten her supper by herself and now stood alone, her only companions being her dish of dessert and her glass of wine. Balint saw her and came over.
‘You see how people avoid me?’ said Dinora, with a smile of mock offence on her generous lips. ‘It started yesterday towards dawn, with snide little glances and whispered impertinences. Today they avoid me openly!’
‘You must be mistaken,’ said Balint consolingly. ‘I’m sure it’s just coincidence and you’re imagining things.’ But though he said this he knew that what she said was true as he had heard of the malicious campaign of gossip that Aunt Lizinka had launched the night before.
‘No!’ she said. ‘I’m not imagining anything! But, you know, the funny thing about it is that nobody seemed to care when that Nitwit was with me. Now that I’ve thrown him out, oh, ages ago, all this happens!’
‘You threw him out? Why? Wasn’t he any good?’ said Balint with a smile.
‘Not because of that!’ laughed Dinora. ‘Though these athletes are overrated! But that’s quite unimportant. No! For totally different reasons,’ she said seriously. ‘Come and sit down. I’d like to tell you about it. Nobody will come near us, never fear!’
They sat down on a sofa by the wall.
‘You remember when we met at Siklod I asked you to come over and see me. I wanted to discuss this with you and ask your advice. But you didn’t come. Were you very afraid of me? Is that why?’ She raised her open fan to hide her face from any observer and whispered in his ear, caressingly, ‘Little Boy, Little Boy? I loved you very much once; and you loved me too, didn’t you? But don’t worry … that was over long ago!’ She paused, lowered the fan, and went on seriously, ‘Nitwit was always asking me for money!’
‘Not possible! Really?’ Balint was amazed.
‘Well, you know, I always like to help people, but this was too much! If I didn’t do what he asked at once he’d become quite rude … well, very rude. You know I don’t ever have much cash. I always have to ask my husband whenever I need any; and it’s not always very … very convenient. Ce n’estpas toujours agréable.
‘But this is very serious!’.
‘It wasn’t too bad to start with … they were only little loans. Then he got me to sign some drafts and paid me back what he owed me, every cent!’
‘For goodness’ sake! How much did you sign for?’
‘I don’t know … twenty … twenty-two thousand. Something like that; I don’t remember exactly. Now I’m worried that Tihamer’ll get to know about it and then I’ll be in trouble! You see, some bank has written to me asking for the matter to be “settled”, they say, and I really don’t understand because I don’t owe them anything, do I? Nitwit cashed the money, but if it became known, then my good Tihamer would begin to wonder, wouldn’t he?’
Dinora laughed at the thought while looking enquiringly at Balint, who sat silently beside her, his eyes narrowed and an unusually serious expression on his face.
What a vile thing to do! he thought. How base to ask a woman for money, to drag such a bird-brained generous little creature into such a mess!
Balint’s natural instinct to help was at once awakened, as always when he encountered the weak and defenceless in trouble. He wondered what he could do to get Dinora out of this muddle. There would be no point in denouncing that scoundrel Nitwit to his regiment; that would only provoke a public scandal and then Dinora would be involved and would suffer as much as he would. No, that was impossible: they would have to find another way. To gain time he advised her, as she was pressing him for an answer, to find an opportunity of tackling Wickwitz, very seriously and as soon as possible, and asking when he was going to clear up the matter. Balint agreed to meet Dinora again soon to discuss what further moves she should make. Then they went to dance.