Antal Szerb: Oliver VII

“What’s that? You don’t believe me? And do you believe me, Marcelle?”

“I’m not sure.”

“But that’s how it was.”

“Well, let’s see. Let’s go to him right now, and you can show us it’s true. Pat him on the cheek, and give him the old ‘What ho!’ then.”

“All right. Let’s go!” Antas roared, in his drunken overconfidence. “And I’ll tell you something else. You think I’m scared of Coltor? What a joke. Me, afraid of a common merchant? I can do what I want with him, whatever I feel like. So there. You’ll see.”

He was no more sober on the boat going back, and when they got to the Lido Sandoval and Marcelle made doubly sure by getting him to drink two bottles of maraschino before going up to meet Coltor. Sandoval sat in the foyer to await the outcome.

When Antas presented his card to Coltor’s secretary, the man spent a moment staring in astonishment at his blurred features and uncertain bearing, but after St Germain’s triumphant incursion he simply dared not risk denying immediate entry to any Alturian. He felt sure that any news of that country would now be of even greater interest to his boss.

And so it happened that a few moments later Antas marched into his room, with Marcelle at his side.

Coltor came up to him and bowed politely.

“Hello, my dear boy,” Antas bellowed, using the full power of his lungs, and patting Coltor on the cheek as he stood there stock still in surprise. “So then, what ho, what ho?” was the next bellowed question, accompanied by a knowing sideways glance at Marcelle. “Do you still like those smelly cheeses?”

Coltor was not easily disconcerted, but by now he had almost completely lost his bearings. He threw an enquiring glance at Marcelle, who gave him a conspiratorial look as if to say it was all Antas’ doing.

“Well, er … my dear Count … I am delighted to receive … so glad you’ve come, old pal … ”

“I should hope you would be, my dear boy,” Antas boomed. “You certainly would if you knew why I’ve come! Oh yes — and I’ve brought my little niece with me … ” (Coltor bowed to Marcelle) … “who is so splendidly … splendidly charming, and pretty, and clever, and an altogether wonderful young woman … But you only have to look at her, so why I am I telling you this? … So, what do you think of my little niece, my dear boy?”

“But Uncle Ugolino,” Marcelle responded modestly, and cast another conspiratorial glance at Coltor.

“Take a seat, Count,” said Coltor (by now thoroughly nervous). “Would you like a glass of cold water?”

“Water? For an Antas? What are you thinking of, dear boy?”

“So then, to what do I owe the honour of this visit?”

“To what …? Wait a sec … I can’t think what it was, right now … Oh yes, now I have it. My dear fellow, I have come to save you.”

“To save me? Me? From what?”

“My poor old Coltor, you are such a trusting little chap you don’t even know what danger you are in. My boy, I have words to whisper in your ear. Coltor, you are entangled in a swindlers’ net!” he bellowed, inches away from the man’s ear.

Coltor leapt back.

“What sort of swindlers are you talking about?”

“Well, that I can’t exactly say, because, whaddya call it … you know … because, right now, I’m in love. But take a look, here’s the letter, from my good friend Palawer, you’ll find it all in there.”

And he handed over the letter.

It read:

Most respected Mr Coltor,

I must ask you to make allowances for my unfortunate friend Count Antas. The events of the Alturian Revolution and the abdication of his beloved monarch disturbed him so much that he has not yet managed to regain his mental balance. He suffers from a number of paranoid delusions: there are swindlers everywhere, he is quite convinced there is conspiracy afoot — which is understandable — and he is forever trying to expose it. He has now asked me to write to you since he absolutely insists on talking to you, to reveal yet another great plot. I felt unable to deny his request, but I am sending his niece to keep an eye on him, and perhaps head off any unseemly behaviour. Again I beg you to make allowances for a sadly afflicted man, and to do your best, in all kindness, to steer well clear of him.

Till we meet again soon

St Germain

Coltor folded the letter carefully and put it in his pocket. Antas remained seated, and in a trice had nodded off to sleep.

“Is it often like this with the poor chap?” he asked Marcelle quietly.

“Poor Uncle Ugolino, his drinking really is a bit excessive these days … but you can understand why … the grief … ”

Antas’ head jerked upwards.

“Well, my dear boy,” he shouted, if somewhat groggily, “what ho, what ho?”

“My dear Count, I am delighted to have seen you, and I am most sorry that you have to leave, but your kind niece informs me that you have pressing business elsewhere.”

“Yes, yes, of course … And the letter? Have you read it?”

“Of course I’ve read it. And I must thank you very much for bringing it to my attention. I shall be forever in your debt for exposing this plot.”

“No need for thanks; what I did … you know … what I did … sacrifice to honour and country … do you follow me?”

“But of course.”

“That’s good, then. God be with you.”

And, supported by Marcelle, he staggered out of the room.

The next morning St Germain gave Sandoval and Marcelle a lively ovation on their arrival at the Palazzo Pietrasanta to hear about his plans.

“Well done, maestro Sandoval. You did a marvellous job. I never knew so much talent in a painter. If you ever decide to give up art for another profession I predict a great future for you. But the most important thing we’ve learnt from all this is that we have to move quickly. Who knows, this Palawer could still bring us down. We can’t afford a second’s delay. I’d prefer to wait a bit longer but I can see that that’s not possible. My dear Sandoval, by the end of today we shall have held a meeting that will resound throughout history.”

“By this afternoon? Including the preparations?”

“My people are already here: Baudrieu, Valmier and Gervaisis have arrived. I’ll brief them before lunch and they’ll see to everything we might need. We’re still short of one person. That is to say, Princess Ortrud is to be here in the palace. Marcelle will take the role. Then, along with Marcelle, we need an elderly countess to chaperone her. After all, Princess Ortrud can hardly call in at her fiancé’s palazzo, even in incognito.”

“This isn’t going to be easy,” said Sandoval. “First of all, where are we going to get an old countess at short notice? Also, Coltor already knows Marcelle as Antas’ niece. Is Ortrud’s presence really necessary?”

“At any rate, it’s highly desirable. It would persuade Coltor that the King’s intentions are serious, that he really does want to return to the throne, he wants to marry her, and he’s not going to have second thoughts. The fact that Coltor has already seen Marcelle is immaterial. Marcelle will wear entirely different make-up, and she’s a superb actress. As for the old countess … now, where can I find one of those?”

“Well, where?”

“I have it. St Germain’s resourcefulness is inexhaustible. Now, my young friend, can you guess who will be the old countess?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“But it’s so simple. Like a crossword puzzle. You will be the old countess.”

“Me?”

“Naturally. I’ll make you up myself. The sort of wonderfully ugly old countess you might paint in one of your pictures.”