‘Indeed! Of course!’ agreed Mrs Tothy, her chins wobbling. ‘God forbid that our Gracious Countess should hear a word of it! We’ve told the porter to warn all visitors to keep their mouths shut! Not a word, your Lordship, not a word!’
Balint started to go up to his room when the old woman came after him and said, ‘Your Lordship’s pardon, but is your Lordship wounded? We heard that there was a great gash in your Lordship’s arm! Four inches, they say!’
He laughed. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘it’s nothing. I don’t even need a sling!’ and he waved his arm about in proof of what he was saying. Nodding to the old woman, he went on upstairs, feeling rather annoyed that the whole town should know and gossip about this ridiculous affair. How they all loved to blow everything up way beyond its real importance. All he could feel was a slight prickling on his elbow, no more than a nettle sting; and they thought that worth talking about! Still, as he got nearer to his room he reflected that perhaps, after all, it did not really matter if the rumours about his being wounded were exaggerated, for they would be sure to reach Adrienne who would all the more appreciate his coming to her later that day.
There was a slight thaw in the air as Balint walked along the Monostor road that afternoon. Little rivulets of melting ice ran along the edge of the compacted snow on the road and down into the gutters that bordered the highway. The trees and rooftops were dripping and vapour seemed to hang in the mild air so that the snow-capped peaks of the Gyalu mountains that shone so brilliantly in the winter sunshine could no longer be seen in the milder weather that heralded the arrival of spring.
Balint turned into the villa’s entrance gates and went round the court towards the side door in the covered veranda. At the corner of the main house he met Pali Uzdy.
‘Well, well! Who do I see?’ said Uzdy in his usual dry mocking voice.
‘From a distance I thought it was Pityu Kendy! How are you? I hear you got somewhat cut up!’
‘Oh, it was nothing, nothing at all!’
‘Indeed? And Pityu? Did you leave him churning in blood?’
‘No more than me! Nothing to write home about!’ said Balint calmly. Uzdy laughed derisively.
‘These duels are absurd,’ he said. ‘All duels are absurd! What would happen if someone really got angry? All that ceremonial! Such rubbish! Nothing more than games for children! If I wanted to kill someone, I’d shoot him without a word! Bah! All that marching up and down, and taking aim, or choosing swords. Old fashioned nonsense!’ He pulled mockingly on his long moustache with his left hand while with his right he patted Balint on the shoulder. ‘You’d better go in,’ he said. ‘My wife’s at home, but I’m going to the Casino. You’ll forgive me? Au revoir!’ Chuckling to himself he strode off, his head tilted back at its usual angle.
Adrienne’s maid was waiting near the door as if she knew that Count Abady was expected. When she saw him she came forward, took his hat and fur coat and galoshes and led him to the drawing-room. Adrienne looked up as he entered the room. This time she was half lying, half sitting on the pile of cushions in front of the blazing fire. As she looked up, only her head and the upper part of her body turned towards him. Her lips were parted and her golden eyes were alive with welcome. Balint stepped quickly across to her, knelt down on the thick rug and drew her to him, his mouth searching for hers. For a moment it seemed as if she might resist; but then she relented and gave him her mouth, though, as on the previous evening, she kept her lips tightly closed.
This time Balint was not prepared to accept so limited a response so with his mouth caressing her cheeks he whispered, ‘Not like that. Let me show you,’ and with his lips he gently and slowly parted hers until their two mouths clung together in a full embrace. At first he felt like a teacher, coaxing a willing but ignorant pupil, but soon desire so flooded him that all thought was wiped from his mind by the overpowering urge to possess her. The kiss did not last long for Adrienne soon opened her eyes, drew back her face from his and gave him an imploring look. Then she buried her face in his shoulder, as if hiding herself from him. When he started to kiss her neck, his lips moving over the skin below the hairline, she moved again, saying, ‘No, no! You mustn’t! No! Don’t do that!’ Then she put up her slim hand between his lips and her neck, as a barrier between them. For a moment she did not move, then she slowly pulled herself away from him. She said again: ‘No! Don’t! Don’t do that!’ Balint sat down near her on one of the other cushions trying to regain his calm, but the blood was pulsating so hard in his head that it was a long time before he could clear his thoughts. Finally it was Adrienne who spoke.
‘Tell me what happened this morning? I heard you were wounded on the arm! But where, and why don’t you have it in a sling?’
‘It was nothing! I didn’t even need a stitch, only a plaster.’
‘Tell me, all the same!’ she asked, drawing back timidly when he tried to kiss her again. Balint did not insist, for in her eyes he saw such an imploring look that he knew he must do nothing to break the spell that was being woven between them. It was as if they were just emerging from childhood and discovering for the first time that a game called love was played by grown-ups, a game that was enchanting but which could also be frightening in the revelation of the forces it released. Balint, sensing something of this in Adrienne, forced himself to be playful and lighthearted. In no time at all he had Adrienne laughing delightedly, sharing his fun with comradely amusement, which, if not exactly the effect he was after, at least proved that he had driven the tension from her.
The evening shadows fell and a maid came in to light the lamps. Then she left again to fetch the tea-tray. When she came back, Balint would not let her put it formally on the table but insisted that the tea things were placed beside them on the carpet in front of the fire. With fresh logs blazing in the fireplace, Adrienne smiled with girlish pleasure saying, as she buttered the toast, what fun it was, just like a picnic! Like two children they devoured the hot toast, the sweet fritters and little cakes that the maid had brought in. All feeling of passion had evaporated; they might have been in the nursery.
By now it was quite dark outside and their conversation, formerly so animated, languished until they spoke only in broken phrases. The desire that Balint had suppressed with such determination and self-denial, flared again within him. He wondered how he could kiss her again after being so gently but so firmly pushed away. Of course! It was simple: by saying goodbye! When he heard the church clock strike six, he started to get up, raising himself to his knees.
‘I must go now. May I come again tomorrow at the same time?’
‘Of course. I never go out in the afternoons.’
Abady put his arm round her waist to draw her to him, but once again she stiffened and tried to put away from his grasp, her hand on his wrist:
‘Don’t!’ she said. ‘Please don’t!’
‘You’re holding my bad arm,’ he said, ‘the wounded one!’ He spoke very softly, directly into her ear and at his words, as if melting to the gentle blackmail they implied, she abandoned her resistance and, obediently, like a good pupil, put her open mouth to his, eager to please though he could still sense a hint of resigned acceptance of the inevitable. Adrienne, while not totally surrendering to Balint’s embrace, felt herself almost swept away by the reassuring warmth of having his arms round her, and she felt giddy and breathless as when led in an intoxicating waltz by an expert partner.