‘But you haven’t told me what you shot? More than all the others, I’m sure?’ she said, interrupting him, but smiling at the same time.
‘Oh, no! I think that Balint on the right got more than I did.’
‘Balint? Pheasants and partridges too? Come on, tell the truth, don’t lie!’
‘Ah well, perhaps not those; but then there are always more birds at the centre, you know,’ and Szent-Gyorgyi gave a little laugh as if mocking his own modesty.
When at last the host went into the dining-room he only took a cup of tea which he started to drink still standing. Imre Warday came over to him and said, ‘Would you allow me to look at your Jersey cows before it gets dark? I’m sure I could learn a lot from seeing how you look after them.’
‘Of course! Naturally!’ said his host and gave orders that someone should telephone to the stables for a carriage and then to the dairy farm to expect a guest.
‘Yesterday the sheep, the day before the Poland-China pigs! Proper little farmer you are!’ called out young Louis Kollonich in careless mockery.
‘And what’s wrong with that?’ answered Warday. ‘It’s quite natural, and nobody but a fool would miss an opportunity to look at the Jablanka farms. It’s rare enough to get a chance to see model farming on this scale; it costs a fortune and few people can afford it.’
‘Of course, that’s true,’ said his host, ‘but, you know, it’s absolutely vital. At the time of the great innovations of Szechenyi…’ and here he started to talk in an impassioned manner unusual for the man who affected to despise all forms of enthusiasm, ‘we started to import thoroughbreds from England, then we experimented with Rambouillet sheep and Simmenthal cattle. Now we must look further afield. All this is much easier on the big estates, easier even than for the State itself. Of course I find it a fascinating hobby as well as being …’ Here he let the sentence trail off with an indefinite gesture of the hand for Antal Szent-Gyorgyi could not bring himself to pronounce the revealing word ‘duty’ and, besides, he found the phrase too pompous.
Countess Beredy looked across the table at Warday. She said nothing, but when he started to get up she too rose from her seat and said, ‘I think I’ll come with you!’
‘Wouldn’t you rather come with the rest of us to see the brood-mares?’ asked Szent-Gyorgyi as he walked with her to the door.
‘No! I would like to see something different!’ said Fanny, smiling as she moved past him. Then, laughing softly, she added, ‘And I did ride with you in the carriage this morning!’ before gliding swiftly out of the room.
Szent-Gyorgyi shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the others.
The Jablanka breeding stables were a sight not to be missed. The buildings themselves were extraordinary and had been designed by Count Antal’s grandfather who had had them built after a model he had seen in England.
They stood in the middle of a great meadow in the park. The central building was higher than the others for it contained, on the ground floor, a large drawing-room furnished in Early Biedermeier style, with parquet floors and a wide-open fireplace. It was lit by long French windows and above was a vast hay loft. All around were blocks of ten loose-boxes, five and five back to back, each the size of a room, with enormous doors split in the middle so that the upper parts could be left open to let the brood mares and their foals get enough air even in the worst of bad weather. From each block of boxes radiated white-painted palisades dividing the great meadow into segments which ended only at the edge of the surrounding woods. In some of these paddocks there grazed a single pedigree mare followed by her foal. These were the dams of famous racehorses, winners of great filly races.
Szent-Gyorgyi showed them round explaining exactly why everything was laid out as it was. As he did so Wuelffenstein knowingly interjected as many sporting phrases as he could, Balint and young Louis gazed at everything with admiration, Slawata pretended an interest he did not feel, and the two girls fondled the muzzles of those mares that were in their boxes and fed them sugar.
From there they went to the paddocks where the recently weaned colts had been placed, and then on to see the two famous stallions that Count Antal had brought from England.
It was a pity, thought Szent-Gyorgyi, that Fanny had not come to see all this. Though he never said so, he was especially proud of his thoroughbreds.
But the beautiful Fanny was far away, driving from farm to farm with Warday in an open carriage. She listened patiently to the explanations and reports of the farm overseers who were eager to show the visitors the milking charts, explain the chemical processes of butter-making, and outline the statistics of percentage yield and cost of transport. Everything produced here was, of course, sent to Vienna. Fanny kept quiet, standing, walking from place to place, turning, stopping again; and again walking on dutifully, always close to Warday, while from time to time she would nod in agreement as if she understood what was being talked about. And always she moved with that peculiar, individual walk, like a cat who placed one little paw directly in front of the other, lightly, in a single line.
It was already beginning to get dark when their carriage left the third farm and turned towards home. The evening sky was clear and beautiful but it was a trifle cold and this was perhaps the reason why the couple in the carriage sat so close together.
‘Imre, tell me, are you happy?’ Fanny broke the silence between them.
‘Oh, yes!’ he replied. ‘I can say that, but it isn’t such a great … I mean …’ He paused and then went on, ‘Well, that doesn’t exist anyway. Klara is really very nice, and she’s got some money of her own which comes in handy, and now we’re having a baby. It’s all wonderful, really,’
‘I’m very happy to hear it,’ said Countess Beredy. ‘I knew this was the right thing for you to do, and that’s why I made you do it. Remember?’
‘Oh, yes! You threw me out at the right moment, just the right moment!’ and he laughed good-humouredly.
Fanny turned to look at him. She opened her eyes slightly. They shone green in the evening light.
‘Though it was so good with you I knew you ought to start a family, and … and Klara was just right, a good match. It wasn’t easy for me to give you up, you know, a real sacrifice!’ The lie came easily from her lips: she knew she would have sent him packing anyway as the love between Laszlo Gyeroffy and Klara had just gone inexorably wrong and so if Imre was out of the way she would at last have the chance to get Laszlo for herself.
‘Sacrifice?’ asked Warday, astonished. ‘But, my darling, you told me … I remember the exact words, “you have to stop when you are still hungry”. That’s what you said, isn’t it?’
‘Yes; that’s what I said‚’ agreed Fanny, but she did not pursue the question of sacrifice, but went on, ‘and wasn’t I right? But we, we still have our appetites, don’t we? And if we wanted to …’
Warday looked up in startled surprise and pleasure. ‘Do you really mean that? Really?’ He looked down, straight into her eyes. Their faces nearly touched.
Fanny now opened her eyes wider than ever, the green flame shining ever brighter, filled with an appeal, a message, a command.
‘I still ache for you as much as ever!’
A long kiss followed, a familiar, breathtaking, overpowering kiss that left them both panting when they drew apart. Neither spoke; only her hand searched for his under the fur rug that covered their knees, her fingers, at once so small and yet so strong, clutching at him. They still did not speak; but when the carriage reached the wide lawn before turning into the castle gates she looked up at him and murmured, ‘When everyone’s asleep. The door after the little stair; it’s my bathroom, the first door!’