Csardas (12 page)

Leo was asleep when they arrived home. Karoly lifted him down from the coach, and he woke up enough to say, “What a
lovely
picnic it was, Malie. Can we go again next week?”

Malie hesitated, smiled, then said, “We’ll go as often as we can... until Papa comes.”

They went many times to the Meadow, sometimes as often as three or four times a week. Once they had a great big picnic with Uncle Alfred, Aunt Gizi and Kati, and Felix and Adam Kaldy, and two servants to make the picnic. It wasn’t very much fun. Uncle Alfred complained about the bees and said he couldn’t get comfortable leaning against a rock, and Aunt Gizi seemed to spend the day preventing Felix from talking to Eva. Mama said her headache had never been so bad, and the picnic ended when poor Cousin Kati dropped her hat into the stream and, while trying to retrieve it, soaked the skirt of her muslin dress. Aunt Gizi slapped her. In front of everyone she slapped her; even the little boys could feel what a horrible, embarrassing thing it was to do. Kati cried and Aunt Gizi scolded her all the way home. The only people who enjoyed that picnic were Karoly and Amalia, but then they enjoyed them all.

Gradually, as people became bored with the Meadow, the picnics dwindled to the very best sort—just Malie and Eva, Mama, and Karoly Vilaghy. Sometimes he came in the coach with them, but more often he would be waiting for them at the Meadow with his horse tethered to a tree.

After they had all eaten the boys would beg Malie and Karoly to take them up to the top of the mountain. They knew that, once away from the clearing, they could run off alone into the woods and Malie and Karoly wouldn’t even notice. Once, in the middle of digging into an ants’ nest with Leo’s shoe, Jozsef asked, “Do you think Malie and Karoly will marry each other?”

“Of course not,” said Leo indignantly. “People have to be in love to marry each other.”

“Perhaps they are. They talk a lot, don’t they?”

Thoughtfully Leo poked and prodded at the heap of earth. Ants ran hysterically in all directions.

“Let’s spy on them and see what they’re doing,” said Jozsef.

They took off their remaining shoes and crept very quietly through the trees. When they were close enough, Jozsef motioned Leo to the ground.

“See,” he said. “I told you.”

Karoly and Malie were holding hands. He was talking but they couldn’t hear his words. At one point he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, not the back of the hand like Felix Kaldy did but the palm. He took much longer to kiss it than Felix did too.

They were all very quiet going home that afternoon. Malie and Karoly were absorbed in some private dream and didn’t talk, and the little boys were worried. They didn’t know why they were worried except it was something to do with Papa. Every time Leo thought of Karoly kissing Malie’s hand, and then thought of Papa, he began to feel sick.

The next time they went to the Meadow, Karoly refused to take the boys up to the top of the mountain. He said he wanted to stay and talk to Mama. “Eva will take you,” he said.

“I want to read my book.”

“Then go and play on your own,” he snapped impatiently. “Malie and I have something to discuss with your mama.”

With dignity, showing they didn’t care, Jozsef and Leo stalked off into the trees.

“We won’t go back,” cried Jozsef vengefully. “Then they’ll be sorry.” They played in a desultory fashion for half an hour, then circled back to the clearing. Karoly was still talking. He was angry about something and Mama had her hand raised to her forehead.

“Surely I can ask, Madame Ferenc! Surely I can call on him and explain my situation. It is not unreasonable merely to be allowed to see him!”

Mama shook her head. She looked so distressed that the boys began to move closer. Usually when grown-ups were talking and did not wish to be overheard they either ceased their conversation or told the children to run away. But this time no one noticed they were there.

“I know there are difficulties. I do not even want to ask for a public engagement until some of the difficulties have been overcome—at least until I get my promotion. All I want is the chance to speak with him.”

“No, no!” Mama cried. “You don’t understand, Karoly. How could I explain to him? It is such a short time! He will blame me, yes he will! He will want to know how all this could have happened in such a short time.” She kept clasping and unclasping her hands and gazing first at Karoly, then at Amalia. Karoly was pacing irritably up and down. He passed right by Leo and Jozsef without even noticing them.

“It is ridiculous! Forgive me, Madame Ferenc; surely you are seeing problems when none exist. I am a cousin of your brother-in-law. I am here for the summer. We have been formally introduced. Our two families have met together in both houses. What could be more easily explained? I have met Amalia and I love her. I want to talk to her father, that is all, just talk to him.”

“Oh, you don’t understand, you don’t understand!” cried Mama, wringing her hands. “There’s Gizi and Alfred and Kati. I’m sure they don’t always know you ride up here to join us. I don’t ask you what you’ve told them because—because—” She faltered, then added feebly, “Because I don’t want to know. It was all so... so pleasant: the summer, and you and Malie.... I didn’t think. I just didn’t think.”

“But what
is
there to think?” he cried angrily. “We have met, and I have fallen in love with your daughter. What is so wrong with me that that brings disgrace upon you all?”

Mama began to weep. “I cannot tell you. I cannot tell you what is wrong. Nothing is wrong, but he will be so angry with me. He will ask Gizi how many times you have met, and Gizi will remember
exactly,
and she will tell him that you and Malie hardly know each other, and then he will say how could the young man want to marry her if they have met so infrequently, and—” Her words drowned in a sea of helpless incoherence.

Karoly was silent. They could see how tense his shoulders were, but finally he put his hand on Mama’s and said quietly, “Please do not cry, Madame Ferenc. I am sorry. Forgive me for shouting at you. I do not—cannot—understand. I am helpless before you. I have so many difficulties to overcome. There is the army marriage fee and my family and my future with the regiment. These things are tangible to me and I can overcome them in time. I can also see that your husband might not like me at all, might refuse to consider a long engagement with Amalia. But I cannot see why I must not even approach him. Why I cannot even speak to him!”

Amalia, for the first time that summer unsmiling, said, “Couldn’t he call, Mama? Do you think Papa would be cross? Surely Karoly—he is Uncle Alfred’s cousin—surely Papa would listen to him, talk to him.”

“Oh, Malie!” Mama’s eyes were closed, not languidly, the way they were when she had a headache, but screwed up tightly as though she were in pain. “Malie, dear. You know what he would say, what questions he would ask. He would never forgive me for letting it come to this before he has even met the young man. Before he is even aware of his existence!” Amalia stared into the trees. “No,” she said simply. “No. Of course it wouldn’t do.”

“If only he knew you,” said Mama desperately. “If you had visited our house in town when he was there—not alone, of course, but with other young people. If he had grown used to you
slowly,
seen you with Gizi and Alfred, then he would not be so... so surprised.”

Malie turned to him and clasped his hand. “Couldn’t we do that, Karoly? When Papa comes, couldn’t we make sure that you call often, with Kati and the Kaldy boys. Pretend that we know each other slightly, then get
him
to know. That way it would be all right.”

Karoly stared incredulously at the pair of them. “I just don’t understand. Play games? Stand by your side talking about the weather? How long do I have—I am only here for a few weeks. Then I must return to the garrison while you remain here until the autumn. Do I have to continue through the winter, drinking coffee and pretending that we hardly know one another?”

“Oh, Karoly, if only you would! It would make everything so much easier. When you meet Papa you will understand.”

Mama’s face grew less agitated. “Of course, that is what you must do,” she cried. “You can still be together this summer—a little—but you must come with Kati and the Kaldy boys. And you must be very charming to Gizi. You must talk to her about her brother, about Zsigmond; she will like that. Then you may mention Amalia a little, but not too much. She is jealous of my girls—how dreadful it would have been if it had been Eva you wanted! You must mention Amalia very gently, in connection with her papa and his cleverness and the land he has bought and the property he owns. If you talk this way to Gizi then she will tell my husband what a very
good
and
sensible
young man you are. He listens to Gizi. He will take notice of anything she says. And after you have called for a while and when he has grown used to you, then you can talk to him.”

“I cannot do this!” he burst out. “I’m a soldier! I do not want to lie and cheat and flatter. I have behaved as a gentleman, why can I not speak to him as a gentleman?”

Malie clasped his hand hard in hers. “Please, Karoly! Do it this way. It is the only way, I promise you. If you speak to him now it will make such trouble, not just for me but for Mama also.”

“Please!” breathed Mama, echoing Malie.

Leo and Jozsef felt they could bear it no more. “Please!” they cried, running forward and tugging at his coat. “Please do what Malie says. Please don’t make Papa angry!”

He stood, a perplexed and hunted expression on his face, and then he shrugged and began to laugh.

“Oh, dear, oh, dear!” he cried. “What can I do against the determined weight of the entire family? I must give in, I suppose. No”—he raised his hand in a guarded gesture—“I do not promise to do all you have asked, but I will see Malie in the presence of my cousins more often, and I will call at your home frequently, and I will wait until I have met Zsigmond Ferenc before I decide what to do next.”

There was almost a party atmosphere. Mama kissed him on the cheek and Malie smiled, her eyes full of unshed tears. Leo and Jozsef swung on his hands, trying to wind his arms round him like streamers. Eva, returning with her book, was told what was going to happen and said, “Won’t it be enormous fun! Like playing in amateur theatricals at school!”

They still went to the Meadow after that, but not so often, and always Aunt Gizi and Cousin Kati were with them. Eva only came when the Kaldy boys were there and those afternoons were very strained and unhappy because Aunt Gizi was not only cross and sharp with Eva, she was angry with Kati as well.

There was much visiting between Aunt Gizi’s house and the farm. Nearly every morning or afternoon or evening one family would ride to the house of the other family. A great deal of coffee and lemonade was drunk, innumerable card games were played, and Karoly became more and more strained, more and more impatient with everyone.

As the time drew near for the arrival of Papa a slight air of hysteria seemed to take possession of the farmhouse. The atmosphere in Roza’s kitchen became tense, the little boys constantly being scolded while Roza, usually serene and placid, involved herself in vat after vat of cherry jam. Uncle Zoltan began to shout at the labourers, threatening to turn them off the land and replace them with migrant harvesters if they didn’t hurry up and do all the tasks that should have been done several months ago. A pig was killed, and Roza prepared salami and
hurka
and the sweet pieces of cured bacon that would later be served at parties and suppers.

Mama had many more headaches and Amalia became very quiet. Leo and Jozsef were noisy and disobedient and usually went to bed in tears. The long spell without Papa had spoilt them, they had relaxed too much, and now, with his arrival imminent, they were unable to control themselves. The only person who seemed unaffected by Papa’s approaching presence was Eva. She was just as happy and vivacious as she had been ever since they had arrived. A large part of her time was spent in her room, gazing into the mirror, curling her hair with tongs, trimming summer hats with new bows, experimenting with sashes and collars. Eva didn’t seem to care at all that Papa was coming.

Three days before his expected arrival the boys asked at breakfast if they could go to the Meadow for one more time. Malie looked at Mama.

“I don’t want to go today,” Mama said fretfully. “Gizi and Alfred are coming this evening, and the Kaldys. I shall rest this afternoon.” An expression of pained irritation crossed her face. “You know how these evenings with Gizi exhaust me!”

Amalia looked guilty. “Yes, Mama, I know.” She played with a piece of bread, crumpling it into a series of small pellets. “Karoly will be coming to call this morning,” she said timorously. “Could he not take Eva and me and the boys on a picnic, just for the last time? It would be all right if Eva was there, wouldn’t it?”

Eva fidgeted on her chair. “Oh, Malie, I don’t want to go to that wretched place again. I’m tired of picnics. And you know how badly the midges bit me last time. You can’t ask me to go today. I don’t want blotches on my face when Felix comes this evening.”

The boys were disappointed. So was Malie. Mama took refuge in a complaint, endeavoring to drown the feeling that she was spoiling the day for Malie and the boys.

“There’s no reason for you to sulk, Amalia,” she said unfairly. “We have all spent more time than any of us like having picnics in that uncomfortable place. Really! When I think of the times Eva and I have trailed up that terible mountain just to be accommodating—”

“I didn’t notice Eva’s reluctance when Felix Kaldy was there,” said Malie with unaccustomed sharpness. “She never once mentioned the midges when he was there.”

Eva flushed angrily. “Malie! How could you be so mean! Well, I’m not coming. If you want to go you can go on your own!”

There was a bad-tempered silence. Jozsef broke it in a noisy whisper. “Couldn’t you take us on your own, Malie? Just you and me and Leo?”

“Couldn’t you, Malie?” echoed Leo. She looked miserable, undecided, then said reluctantly, “Oh, I suppose so.Yes, all right, we’ll go, just the three of us. But we must wait to tell Karoly. We cannot go until he has arrived.”