Miklós Bánffy - They Were Found Wanting

Balint answered icily, ‘I am free to come and go as I please, am I not?’

‘Of course, but our friend is entitled to feel himself insulted if someone leaves the room because of him.’

Now the other second spoke up. ‘Our friend will only be satisfied if your Lordship declares most solemnly that he did not intentionally avoid Dr Zsigmond Boros and, on the contrary, that he holds him in high esteem. Furthermore our friend demands that your Lordship beg his pardon verbally in front of witnesses as well as in writing!’

At this Balint started to laugh. ‘I really see no reason to beg anyone’s pardon, let alone Dr Boros’s. However,’ he went on seriously, ‘I suppose you had better be in touch with my seconds. Please inform me where they can find you tomorrow morning. I am not sure that I can be in touch with them any earlier.’

‘From ten o’clock … at the House.’

They bowed stiffly and left the room.

What an absurd performance, thought Balint — stupid, stupid, stupid! Perhaps it had been rather conspicuous, the way he had got up and left the room so suddenly. Of course it had been clumsily done, but what had been the alternative? However the fact that Boros would not be satisfied by a simple straightforward explanation but was pressing for what amounted to a Certificate of Good Conduct made it clear that the lawyer wanted something beyond a normal settlement. What it was Balint did not then grasp, but in the meantime he would have to find seconds himself. He had no idea who to ask; certainly no one in politics or this would become a political affair.

Then he realized it might be best to get someone from Transylvania, someone serious who was unlikely to do or say anything foolish and who was respected by everyone. Far better go to one of his own countrymen. Keep it in the family!

His recent travelling companion, the older Adam Alvinczy, occurred to him. It was the ideal solution, for Count Adam had acted in a number of such affairs of honour and always with restraint and good sense, though he was no genius when it came to brains. Although his son Farkas was a Member of Parliament he sat as an independent, so that no one could say there was any political reason for Balint having chosen his father.

He asked the hall porter of his hotel to telephone round and find out where Alvinczy was staying. He soon had the answer: it was the Pannonia Hotel and Count Alvinczy was at home at that moment.

Balint had himself driven there at once, and the old gentleman agreed with alacrity, asking only who should be asked to act with him.

‘I leave that to you,’ replied Balint. ‘I should prefer whoever it is also to be from Transylvania, but it doesn’t really matter. I don’t think anyone too young would be really suitable,’ he added, so as to make sure that he did not ask Kamuthy.

‘All right, my boy. I’ll have a look round at once.’

Later that evening Balint, who was then at the Casino Club, was called to the telephone.

‘I just wanted to let you know that I’ve found the ideal man, someone who fits your needs perfectly. I have asked him without waiting to consult you. It’s Miklos Absolon, who is staying at Rudas having treatment for his bad leg.

‘Oh!’ said Balint. ‘Oh! Absolon!’ and there was no mistaking the disappointment in his voice. The old man noticed at once and said, ‘Don’t you like him? I thought you’d be pleased!’

‘Well, yes, of course he’s an excellent choice; but he’s hotly opposed to the Independence Party at home in Maros-Torda, while Boros is their champion there … so people might think there was something political in all this.’

‘I hadn’t thought of that!’ said the older man. ‘But you did authorize me to act and as he’s already accepted it would be difficult to go back on it now.’

‘Oh, no, for Heaven’s sake! Not now! Anyway I’m very grateful and you’re the man in charge. You’ve far more experience than I have in these affairs, so I trust your judgement.’

‘You can rely on me,’ Alvinczy assured him, ‘to see that no irrelevant side issues are brought into this. But thank you for warning me all the same.’

The next day Balint was visited by Alvinczy and Absolon who had already spoken to Boros’s seconds.

‘What they want is quite absurd. It’s sufficiently unusual to ask for an apology,’ said Alvinczy, after telling Abady that they had insisted on exactly what they had demanded the day before, ‘but to ask you to humble yourself publicly is really going too far. I will not agree!’ He then added that they now said that if their demands were not accepted they would insist upon the most punitive conditions allowed by the duelling code.

As yet Miklos Absolon had held his peace. Now he placed his short crutch on a nearby table and his bad leg on the chair opposite him. Balint noticed with renewed amazement how much he looked like his nephew Pali Uzdy, despite not being tall and having such broad shoulders. He must once have been a powerful man, reflected Balint and, looking at his typically Tartar face with its wide cheekbones, it was easy to believe that, when he travelled Tibet in disguise, people really took him for a Kirgiz nomad.

He took out a very black cigar and in one movement bit off the end with his snow-white teeth, spat it out, and said, ‘As I see it the essence of the matter is this: did you avoid shaking hands with Boros on purpose or not? If it was sheer chance, then you shake hands now and that will be an end of it. If on the other hand — and this I’d find quite natural — you avoided him deliberately, then the matter is quite different.’ His slanting eyes glistened as he looked hard at Balint. ‘So answer that, my boy!’

‘I knew exactly what I was doing. I did it on purpose.’

‘May I ask why?’

Abady hesitated. Then he said, ‘That I would prefer not to say!’

‘So,’ said the old explorer mockingly. ‘You don’t want to say. Well, well!’ He took his leg off the chair in front of him, stamped it on the ground and then looked up seriously at the younger man. ‘I must tell you that if you will not explain yourself because you have given your word of honour not to, or if a woman is involved, you need not answer. In all other cases you are obliged to do so. We are your seconds and we have a right to know.’

‘I don’t agree,’ said Alvinczy mildly, because he did not care for Absolon’s hectoring tone and had been fidgeting in his chair since he had begun his interruption. ‘If Abady doesn’t want to say … well, that’s his affair and does not concern us.’

‘But it does!’ shouted Absolon, curling back his lips in a snarl. ‘If our young friend has good reason to refuse to shake hands with Boros then we have to know what they are. Would you allow him to engage in what might be a mortal contest with an unworthy opponent, someone who may not even have the right to fight a duel? Just think of it: Balint might be killed and the truth only come to light when it was too late. It would be unthinkably negligent on our part to let such a thing happen. It does concern us and it is our responsibility!’

At the word ‘responsibility’ Alvinczy caved in.

‘I’m sorry! You are right, of course, absolutely right.’ From then on the discussion was conducted entirely by Absolon. Balint realized that he had to answer their question. So he explained, as briefly as possible, that since the Vasarhely meeting he had been sent a pile of documents all accusing Boros of dishonesty and corrupt pleading. Some of the tales may have been exaggerated but many were obviously true enough. That was why he did not wish to shake hands with the man and, since he had not consciously intended to offend Boros, he regretted that the lawyer had noticed it. ‘But I would rather fight with him,’ he said, ‘than publish all that dirt. I don’t want to destroy him, it’s not in my nature, but neither do I want anyone to think that I raked all this up just to save my own skin.’