At one time Uzdy had practised every day, but recently, since he had become interested in his new theory of numbers, he had come less often. Lack of practice, however, had not affected his skill as a marksman and, no matter what calibre of bullet he used, he rarely missed the centre of the target.
On that morning he had been down at the range for some time, firstly shooting at the clay discs and, when they ran out, at the 250-metre target.
This was placed near the top of the hillside. Beside Uzdy, the girl Clemmie’s English nanny watched the target through the telescope and announced the results. This had been her job since the girl had been given a French governess. Uzdy, though he never spoke to her and had never seemed to notice her existence, had suddenly developed a liking for the elderly spinster and now always gave her this task.
At one moment the butler Maier came to ask if his master wanted to come back to the house for tea or if he wished it brought down to the range. Though normally he sent a footman on this errand, on this day he came down himself. When his master gave no answer but went on shooting, Maier just stood patiently waiting. As he did so he kept his eyes on the hillside.
Although it was quite late in the afternoon the sun was still shining brightly and where the blackthorn and beech seedlings had been planted on the steep hillside every branch was clearly etched against the yellow clay soil. Here and there some outcrops of chalk rock gleamed white and the grass seemed even greener than usual, even through the mesh of the wire fence.
A figure came out of the forest above the range, a tall man wearing a plus-four suit of green linen and hobnailed boots. He was wearing thick glasses, carried a butterfly net in one hand, with a rucksack on his back and a tin box slung over one shoulder. He was walking along a rarely used path which, before this hillside had been fenced in, had formerly been a cattle-track that came through the woods and then diagonally down the hill where the shooting range now stood.
The stranger moved forward with slow deliberate steps until one foot hit the wire mesh. Then he stooped and, being obviously very short-sighted, bent down to see what it was that stood in his way. Then, having exceptionally long legs, he stepped over the fence and calmly continued on his way … in the direction of the targets.
The old English nanny saw him first. So, perhaps, did Maier, but he did not say anything.
‘Look out! There’s a man up there!’ called out the nanny in English and then everyone, Uzdy, Maier, the nanny and even the boy in the ditch, all shouted to the traveller who, heedless of the uproar, walked straight on into the path of the bullets. He took no notice of the noise, presumably not thinking he might be the cause of it, but merely walked calmly onwards.
At this Uzdy lost his temper. In quick succession he fired three bullets which hit the rocks a few inches in front of the stranger’s feet. Pakk! Pakk! Pakk! Three sharp metallic clangs. Little fragments of rock shot about.
Only now did it seem that the traveller realized he had perhaps strayed into a dangerous spot. He turned in the direction from which the bullets had come and then, still quite slowly, descended the steep slope of the hill.
Pal Uzdy was chuckling triumphantly.
‘Please forgive me for trespassing on private land,’ said the stranger when he had jumped the ditch and reached the rifle stands. He then lifted his hat and introduced himself. ‘Wolf Hermann Kisch, from Szasz-Regen.’
He said nothing else, and nothing at all to indicate that he was a doctor by profession. He spoke fluent Hungarian with hardly a trace of a German accent, and he explained that he was a keen collector of butterflies and had wandered rather further than he had planned. That was how he had happened to come so far, roaming wherever the chase took him. Uzdy was now roaring with laughter, but the doctor took it all in good part. Looking around he saw the elderly Englishwoman and said, ‘Your wife, I presume! I kiss your hand, my Lady.’ He didn’t seem to notice Maier, though it had been with him that he had planned his arrival that morning when the old butler had walked over to the inn at Korosfo. Maier had started life as a trained nurse.
That was how Dr Kisch had introduced himself to Almasko, and Uzdy had at once asked him to stay, considering the doctor as his special acquisition, almost as his prey. It was as if he were proud of him. Countess Clémence, just as obviously, disliked him. She too did not know his profession.
For some time now Uzdy had no longer listened to anything his mother had to say. There was even a hostile glint in his eyes when he looked at her. This had started when the old lady had got back from Meran, and was most unexpected in Uzdy who had always been scrupulously polite and attentive to her. Now he would answer her with unconcealed irritation and sometimes he even queried her household arrangements even though that had always been her undisputed domain. Then too he would tease and persecute the new governess, and he would do it in such a way that it was clear to everyone that he only did it to annoy his mother.
However he took an immediate liking to Dr Kisch and on the first morning of his stay took him into his confidence and revealed to him all the details of that tremendous secret by which he would reform the whole world’s science of figures. All through Dr Kisch’s stay they would be closeted together for hours on end, go for long walks together, and spend half the night in talk in Uzdy’s study. Though it was forbidden to everyone else the doctor was told to enter that holy of holies whenever he wished, whether invited or not.
Seeing this Adrienne began to realize what an accomplished man he was.
Altogether he spent five days at Almasko. On the sixth day he left at dawn. The night before, when he said his goodbyes, his host made him promise to return at the end of the summer.
‘I’ll come then because the most interesting butterflies are to be found at the beginning of the autumn,’ Dr Kisch replied, playing his part as a specialist in such matters.
Though offered the carriage he left on foot as he had come, taking the path to the crest of the hills where it joined the road to Banffy-Hunyad. It was barely dawn when he left.
A few hours later Adrienne went for a walk, not on the same path but in the same direction. They had agreed this in advance for it had been quite impossible for them to talk privately while the doctor was staying in the house. The matter had been fixed by Maier, the butler, who was the only person at Almasko whom Adrienne could trust with the knowledge of the doctor’s real identity and the purpose of his visit. They had worked it all out when she returned from seeing Dr Kisch at Regen.
Adrienne had always been an early riser and often in the mornings would go for long walks in the forest, so there was nothing unusual about her doing the same that morning.
Filled with anxiety she hurried through the young trees. Her heart was beating furiously for she realized that her fate would shortly be decided and that she would soon know whether it would be possible to bring up the question of divorce. She had no presentiments, either good or bad, for she had been able to read nothing in the doctor’s face, even though she had been watching closely for five long days.
As she emerged from the woods Adrienne saw that Dr Kisch was waiting for her just beyond where the last trees had been felled. He was sitting, exactly as planned, on one of the posts that marked the boundary of the Uzdy properties.
As it would not be wise for them to be seen together, for no one gossiped more than country people and many of them used this little road on their way to market, Adrienne at once suggested that they left the path and walked back into the trees.