Miklós Bánffy - They Were Found Wanting

The carriage drew up, and Adrienne got out.

For some time she had been planning to visit her husband’s uncle, ever since, in fact, the time of Margit’s wedding when he had been the best man. It was then that they had become friends, for Adrienne had sensed at once that old Absolon understood her, shared her views and her outlook on life and appreciated her in a way that no other member of her husband’s family had ever done. When the wedding itself was over he had driven out especially to see her and had stayed for a long time.

This was most unusual for Absolon who was known rarely to seek the company of women; and so for him to ask permission to call, and to stay for a long time, were quite exceptional marks of respect and sympathy. Then too Adrienne had sensed a certain compassion in his voice as if he had seen and understood the awful problems of her married life. It was after this visit that Adrienne, after much self-searching, had decided to come to Borbathjo and try to enlist on her side the one member of her husband’s family who would be sympathetic when she sued for divorce, someone to whom Uzdy and his mother would listen, someone who could support her plea to be freed from the slavery of the past few years. Absolon had the guts to speak the truth to Pali Uzdy; he was intelligent and fearless and would know how to plead her right to have custody of her daughter, and he would even be strong enough to prevent Uzdy from harming Balint, should it come to that.

Adrienne had gone over it in her mind time and time again. She had not come before but waited until now because she had just had a letter from her mother-in-law saying that she would return home with her grandchild at the end of May. This would mean that Adrienne would then be able to start her divorce proceedings since she would no longer be held back by the fact that little Clemmie was out of her care.

Making her now familiar excuse, she left her husband’s house at Almasko and took the train to stay with her father at Mezo-Varjas. On the following day she ordered the carriage and had herself driven to Borbathjo. In this way no one at Almasko would know about it, for she was the mistress in her father’s house.

It was a long way fifty — kilometres to Regen, where she lunched, and then thirty more to Borbathjo — but the Miloth chestnuts were sturdy animals and were so used to long journeys that they arrived as fresh as when they left.

‘My dear niece, how nice of you to come to visit me!’ said Absolon as he kissed her hand with old-fashioned ceremony. He would kiss the hands of any young woman, of older ones never.

Adrienne looked around her with interest. Borbathjo was a most unusual house. It was set above the side of the hill and appeared from the smooth paving of the courtyard to have been built on one floor only. But from where the portico with its wooden pillars joined the two parts of the building together the garden fell away in such a steep slope that the main part of the manor-house had in fact been built in two storeys, so that the long veranda was high above the flower-beds. Here there was a group of wicker chairs in which Absolon and his guest sat down, and it was here that Adrienne told him why she had come.

Adrienne told her story simply and sincerely. She held nothing back, not even the brutality and unpredictable behaviour of her husband, nor the difficulties with her mother-in-law, even though she was Absolon’s sister. And without realizing it she even let him know, though not in so many words, that she loved someone else with whom she wanted to start a new life once she was divorced from Uzdy.

It all came out so easily, far more so than she had ever imagined it would. So much sympathy and understanding radiated from the simple, sincere old man who sat opposite her that it was just like talking about some long-understood problem which never needed explanation because it was already so familiar to them both. It was not like trying to make a stranger understand some subject to which he was a stranger. Absolon’s family likeness to her husband did not bother her, though he had the same Tartar face with prominent cheekbones and slanting eyes, wide mouth with fleshy lips, and his skin held the same oriental pallor. The difference, though Adrienne hardly realized it at the time, lay in the fact that while Absolon was absolutely natural and devoid of artifice, Pali Uzdy was all contrivance and took pains to present an air of undisguised evil; it was as if he wanted to be taken for Lucifer himself with an exaggeratedly long pointed beard and moustaches that curled away from his lips.

Besides this there was, and perhaps it was more important, a totally different expression on their faces. Whereas Uzdy adopted an air of sardonic mockery, his uncle, at this moment at any rate, seemed the personification of concerned goodwill; though he was capable of malice if provoked.

It took some time for Adrienne to tell her tale, and when she finished the old explorer picked up the crutch which lay beside his chair and struck the floorboards heavily. He always did this when about to say something important. With one of his eyebrows lifted high on his forehead he looked sharply at her and, speaking each phrase deliberately and carefully as if it were the result of deep thought, said, ‘All right, I will help you, but it won’t be easy. You’ll bear a heavy responsibility, you know, but I’ll do it all the same. There will be no problem with my sister Clémence. I’ll deal with her when the time comes; but my nephew Pali will not be so easy.’

Adrienne looked up at him anxiously, enquiringly.

‘I just mean to say that my late brother-in-law was mad and we had better not forget that when dealing with his son. It is that fact that makes it so easy for me to accept everything you’ve told me, and, perhaps, some of the things you haven’t; and it is that we have to guard against. We must remember what might happen — though of course it might not; but we must make sure that you … and maybe someone else … are properly protected.’

For a moment Adrienne was startled, for it was clear that he was referring to some other love and yet she had said nothing except that she wanted to make a new life for herself as soon as she was free. She realized that here was a man of clear-sight whose instinct could be trusted, a man for whom all human frailty was natural. Then, seeing the effect of his last words, he added light-heartedly, ‘Tea-time! I can’t think why it isn’t already on the table,’

He heaved himself up, and even though the bell was within reach and he only had to ring it when he wanted something, he stumped off into the house.

Adrienne remained alone, leaning on the balustrade and gazing into the distance. How sympathetic the old fellow was, she thought. How ready to help, to be kind and useful. How tactfully he had let her know that he had understood what could not be said, how he had himself introduced the one subject that must not be mentioned, her love for Balint.

Was it possible that he had heard something of it? Could he possibly have known that she was in love and that the man she loved was Balint? It seemed hardly possible, for even though she never discouraged the old ladies from gossiping about her she had seen to it that it had always been that group of young men like Adam Alvinczy and Pityu, and the egregious Uncle Ambrus, who had given rise to their talk; Balint, she was sure, had never been mentioned.

No, no! It couldn’t be. Old Absolon could not have known anything definite; and his words must have sprung simply from his deep knowledge of life, from the wisdom of the truly tolerant.