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Authors: Miklos Banffy

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He said it very softly. And each time that his voice faltered, at each break in the phrases, he felt her hands squeeze his shoulders, and every soft nuance of pressure was an acquiescence in what he was saying. It was an answer clearer than any word, an answer of deeply felt agreement. And when he no longer spoke her arms slipped down until she held his body tightly to her and her mouth found his among the tangled locks of hair. A long burning kiss
followed
that was the seal of an unspoken promise, a vow, a solemn treaty of eternal intent …

Just as dawn was breaking Balint stepped out of the French
window
of Adrienne’s sitting-room into the narrow strip of garden
between
the house and the little wooden gate which opened onto the bridge across the narrow branch of the Szamos river. Here he had to be careful to leave no traces but luckily the snow was so hard in the shadow of the northern side of the house that it was only just when he reached the gate itself that he had to take an extra long stride so as not to sink into the mud beneath the snow. He looked back to make sure that he had left no tracks. There were none.

Once across the rickety little bridge Balint had the choice of walking along the path, now muddy with the first signs of the end of winter, or taking a detour through the park itself. As he was wearing galoshes he decided to brave the park. A light rain was falling but he did not care. It was so beautiful to walk in the
growing
light of dawn, for his heart was filled with hope – and this hope seemed to be echoed by the sleeping landscape beneath which he could sense the coming of spring.

Even the air seemed laden with promise, as was his own heart.

When they had said goodbye in Adrienne’s scented bedroom all she had said was, ‘I’ll try!’ and this was how they had parted. She would try to find an opportunity of raising the question of divorce, and, thought Balint, of course she will succeed, she must succeed. After all Adrienne and her husband hardly lived a real married life and so why should Uzdy want so hard to keep her, as Adrienne seemed to think? Surely it was only Adrienne’s absurd fancy that he would not agree to set her free? And anyhow there were laws which covered cases like hers,

Balint strode through the park filling his lungs with the fresh air of the early morning and his heart with renewed hope for the fulfilment of his love for Adrienne. The giant trees around him were like motionless giants of lilac-coloured shadow and at their feet was here and there a patch of still unmelted snow. Little streams were flowing in all directions over the turf, softening the earth and preparing the way for the upsurge of new blades of grass, of flowers and weeds, now lying dormant underfoot. Nature was preparing to renew itself, to rise once again to confront the future, with her eternal strength. In the air of the coming day there floated imperceptibly the scent of renewing life, of fecund spring itself. As Balint strode so confidently towards home his whole being was celebrating not only the coming undisputed
possession
of the woman he loved but also that thought which had sprung unbidden to his lips only an hour or so ago: Adrienne would bear him a son.

When finally Balint emerged from the avenue of trees he decided to make a further detour before approaching his home. He would take, he thought, a path through the little winding streets of the medieval part of the town, thus avoiding the main square and any possibility of meeting any acquaintance on their way home from a night of carousing with the gypsies.

Just as he was about to turn the corner into the old Bridge Street a carriage drawn by four horses tore at great speed down the main road. The horses were flecked with sweat and the roof of the carriage had been raised against the cold wind. If there were anyone inside they could not be seen, and anyway Balint was too far away to distinguish anything clearly. As he emerged from the gloom of the narrow little street the carriage was already
disappearing
round the corner of the market. It had all happened in a flash, and Balint did not pay much attention to the incident, though his mind registered it, just as a fleeting impression, because such a thing was so unusual. No one normally arranged to arrive from the country at such an unholy hour.

Adrienne was sleeping deeply when somewhere a door opened and light streamed into the room. She woke instantly and without moving her head from the pillows opened her eyes. The light was coming from the door to her bathroom which was just
opposite
the foot of her bed, and in the doorway stood Uzdy in fur coat and hat.

At first Adrienne thought she must be dreaming, so improbable did it seem that Uzdy who had left for the country only a few hours before, should now actually be there, in her room.

But in a moment his arm shot out, as if he were pointing at her. Something flashed in his hands and there were three sudden
explosions
that cracked as sharply as a whiplash. Three bullets crashed into the wall above her head and Adrienne realized instantly that her husband was shooting at her. As if jerked by an invisible spring Adrienne sat up and faced her husband totally
disregarding
that there must be two more bullets in the little Browning. If those two shots were fired she would now be a direct target.

Adrienne cared nothing for that. She merely stared at her
husband
, her chin held high and her wide-open eyes filled with scorn. She said nothing; she merely looked at him. Between her full lips her teeth shone white, and the wild black curls of her hair twisted round her head like the snakes of Medusa. Adrienne waited; there had to be two more bullets for her. For a few moments they stared at each other in silence.

Then Uzdy lowered her arm.


A
lle
Ehre!
– congratulations – I call that real courage! Really!
Alle
Achtung
– all my respects – really!’ He pocketed his weapon and in an instant was back in the doorway, bowing from the waist with a curious ironic stiffness, his beanpole figure bending so
deeply
that he almost gave the impression of being snapped in two at the waist. Laughing uncontrollably he repeated over and over, ‘That’s something! That really is something!’

And Adrienne realized that this demonic laughter resembled nothing more than that of a naughty child after a successful
practical
joke.

‘Are you mad?’ asked Adrienne coldly.

Uzdy did not reply, but merely turned on his heel and left the room, closing the door behind him. His laughter could still be heard coming from the room beyond.

Then there was a moment’s silence before, from the courtyard, came the jingle of harness and the clatter of horses’ hoofs. Uzdy’s four-horse carriage must be turning towards the gates. For a little while could be heard the rattle of the wheels on the cobble-stones, then it grew fainter and finally died away
altogether
. Count Uzdy had left as abruptly as he had arrived.

Adrienne remained sitting up in bed for a long time. Only now, when all danger had passed, did her heartbeats begin to pound in her throat and the terrible thought came to her that
perhaps
Uzdy had now had himself driven to the Abady house and that there were still two more bullets in his gun.

She jumped quickly out of bed, ran into the freezing
drawing-room
next door and hastily scribbled a few lines:

U was
here
this
morning!
He
is
quite
mad.
He’s
gone
now,
but
I
don’t
know
where!
Be
very
careful!
I’ll
go
for
a
walk
this
afternoon.
If
nothing
has
happened
before
then
you

ll find
me
in
the
m
ain square
.

 

Then she rang the bell. It was some time before her maid, Jolan, appeared. The old woman’s room was far away in the main house and, as it was still very early, she was not yet properly awake. By the time she reached Adrienne’s apartments her
mistress
was once more in her bed.

‘Please take this at once to the Abady house in Farkas Street. Tell them to hand it immediately to Count Balint. If he is sleeping then they must wake him. I need an answer.’

Three quarters of an hour went by and each minute of waiting was a torture to the woman lying there in her bed. The church clock had already struck eight by the time that Jolan returned, but as, when she entered the room, her expression was unclouded by worry, Adrienne stopped worrying. Clearly nothing untoward had happened and so AB’s visiting card, on which he had scribbled ‘All right!’ in English, was hardly necessary.

Necessary or not Adrienne felt comforted. She barely glanced at the card and in a few moments was asleep.

There was no opportunity for her to tell him anything as they walked together in the town, for young Margit was with them. Later, back at the Uzdy villa, it was the same because several people, including the Laczok girls, Adam Alvinczy and Pityu Kendy, dropped in for tea.

All Adrienne could do, when chatting about the bazaar, was to give special meaning to the phrase ‘just like yesterday’ by
glancing
at Balint as she spoke and looking straight into his eyes. In return, to show that he had understood she had some special
message
for him, he dropped his eyelids for a brief moment and turned his head away. This had become a long-established
technique
between them when other people were present and there was no chance of talking privately.

Uzdy did not return from the country that day and so Balint was able to come to her room at night. Adrienne showed him the three round bullet-holes in the cream-coloured wallpaper above the bed. Lying there upon the bed they calculated that had Balint been there the previous night the bullets would have passed straight through his chest; and leaning backwards on her elbows Adrienne lay back pretending to lie just where Uzdy would have shot Balint through the heart.

Though today they laughed and joked and made light of it all, for Adrienne their mirth had a darker side to it. Now she could no longer bring herself to believe that Uzdy would ever agree to a divorce. Previously she had only half believed it, but last night’s experience had proved to her that, far from being complacent or indifferent, Uzdy had now become even more dangerous. That such a renowned shot had aimed above her – just in fact where he would have hit Balint had he been there an hour before – and that he had stopped shooting the moment she sat up, proved to her that it was not she but her lover who was in danger. Therefore if she were to raise the question of divorce it would be Balint rather than herself who would be in peril. Indifferent as she was to any danger to herself, she dared not do anything that put at risk the life of the man she loved. Though nothing in her manner revealed it Adrienne had spent all day in thinking this out and she had come to the conclusion that she must wait until Balint was not there – perhaps away in Budapest, or better still abroad – before trying to bring up the subject. Even then it would have to be in some devious, roundabout way and until then she must not, under any circumstances, give the smallest indication of what she intended. She would find a way, she had to; but in the meantime she would not even mention to Balint that there was any change in her plans. Accordingly she continued to talk as if she were preparing to discuss the matter with her husband because she knew that if she showed the slightest reluctance then Balint would take matters into his own hands.

BOOK: They Were Found Wanting
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