Miklós Bánffy - They Were Found Wanting

‘It was good of you to come, good of you to come!’ repeated Uzdy. Balint had never known him so welcoming. As his host plied him with questions as to where he now was and what he had been doing, all sign of his habitual cold ironic manner had vanished. Only, from time to time when he turned in Balint’s direction, his small slanting eyes seemed to have a peculiar glitter.

They talked for a long time just as if they had always been good friends.

At length Adrienne returned from her walk and the three of them strolled across the flowerless lawns making polite conversation. Then the butler announced that luncheon was served.

Nothing exceptional occurred during the meal nor afterwards in the big oval drawing-room, which seemed as oppressive as ever with its cold grey walls and closed shutters. Everything was as ordered, as dull and conventional as it always had been, with heavy formal furniture symmetrically arranged with no sign of anything personal left lying casually where someone had left it. Everything was in its carefully planned position as if no one had yet come to take up residence.

The conversation at table and afterwards was also stilted and formal, mere words being forced out to fill a vacuum while each person’s thoughts were far away. Sometimes the hesitant flow of words faltered, but it was never allowed to stop altogether, for the old countess, who had been brought up to ‘make conversation’ lest a dinner table should be forced to endure the social solecism of silence, deftly introduced new subjects to keep things going in a proper manner.

This went on for some time. As always when he came to Almasko, Balint sensed a floating menace in the air; it was as if the cold petrified atmosphere concealed something unspoken, mysterious and menacing.

An hour was passed in meaningless insipid talk which was carried on principally by Abady and the old countess. After the meal Adrienne sat in silence, her amber eyes open wide as if she were expecting something. Uzdy, as so often, walked up and down the room, but did not speak. He went backwards and forwards between the fireplace and the long French windows which gave onto the balcony, and as he did so his slanting eyes turned more and more in the direction of Abady. From time to time his mouth contracted spasmodically. He seemed to be on the threshold of some important decision.

Suddenly he stopped in front of Balint and spoke: ‘Come to my room!’ he said in a commanding voice. ‘Come! I want to talk to you!’

He turned and walked towards the door. Balint got up and they left the room together.

Adrienne thought that she could not bear to remain another moment with her mother-in-law and so after a few minutes she too left the room and hurried down the corridor to her bedroom which was at the end of the house and just above her husband’s study.

Adrienne went to the open window of her room and leaned out listening. The window of the room below was also open, but she was unable to distinguish what Uzdy was saying. She could just hear his voice, but the words were unintelligible. All she could make out was that he seemed to be explaining something and that his voice rang with controlled passion.

Her heart constricted. What could he be trying to explain? Was he telling AB to his face that he knew all about them? Was he accusing him, spelling out their guilty behaviour in Venice and their illicit meetings in the forest? And would he, when he had finished, turn on Balint and shoot him as he would a dog?

Adrienne was filled with a dreadful premonition. She waited, terrified, believing that the awful workings of Fate were about to end in a death.

While all her attention was riveted on the mysterious happenings in the room below, her mind went back to a string of seemingly inexplicable events in the past weeks, the oddnesses — some ominous, some reassuring — in her husband’s recent behaviour, his sudden sharp glances so full of menace, and strange disconnected utterances. She tried to recall everything that he had said and done.

Only now, as she began to put it all together, did she begin to glimpse a pattern which had eluded her at the time. For several months Uzdy had shut himself away in his study for periods far longer than he ever had before. In the past he only used to disappear into his study in the morning to bring the estate account books up to date, but recently he had taken also to vanishing for most of every afternoon, frequently not even emerging in the evenings. Sometimes he would remain there for most of the night. She had often heard him walking up and down for hours at a time. Then there would be silence, and then, after a while, she would again hear him pacing up and down, and the light from his window would stream out onto the lawn below almost until dawn. Up until now she had hardly given a thought to what he might be doing, and she certainly had not objected, but on the contrary had rejoiced in the fact that her husband had taken to shutting himself mysteriously away only allowing old Maier occasionally to come in to clear up. As long as this went on he very rarely came to her room and so she had been spared the sinister sound of his heavy tread on the creaking wooden stair, a sound that filled her with terror and loathing for what must inevitably follow.

All this had been a great relief to her, indeed it had seemed like her salvation, especially now that she had been able to give full rein to her now liberated passion in Balint’s arms.

Consequently she had not looked for any explanation of the odd behaviour which had kept her husband away from her. Now she began to wonder if, during these long weeks, Uzdy might not have been planning to kill the man she loved. The more she thought about it the more she convinced herself that Uzdy had merely been waiting for the right moment to settle the account once and for all; and now, when all she could do was to wait and listen, listen and wait, wait, wait, now that moment of decision had arrived.

There was still no sign, no movement, only the sound of Uzdy’s voice, talking on and on with an occasional interpolation from Balint. Uzdy showed no signs of stopping, just endless, endless sentences, half-heard and totally incomprehensible. Adrienne’s nerves were so strung up that sometimes she even imagined that she heard the sound of a shot and then she could almost see the figure of her husband standing triumphant and mocking as he laughed over the dying body of her lover … but nothing happened. It was only her imagination working her up until she had terrified herself.

Two hours went by, two long hours of agonized waiting.

After the two men left the drawing-room Uzdy had led his guest in silence out of the house and then climbed the wooden stairway that led to his study above. There he had taken out his keys, opened the door and, when they were both inside, locked the door again behind them.

At this moment Balint also believed that a final reckoning was about to follow.

He wondered if Uzdy planned to shoot him at once or whether he would first be subjected to a litany of accusations and interrogation. He looked around him to see if he could lay his hands on some heavy object with which he could defend himself if Uzdy should suddenly attack him, but there was nothing to be seen. All around the room were hung clip-boards carrying long sheets of paper covered with columns of figures. At one side were two large architect’s drawing tables covered with more sheets of paper bearing columns of figures and complicated diagrams. Near the window was a shelf carrying some heavy agricultural books and Balint thought that perhaps he could protect himself with one of these if Uzdy reached for his gun. He quickly placed himself within reach of the shelf, his back to the wall, his body in shadow. It was a strategic position from which he could watch Uzdy’s every move. Now he was ready for anything.