Miklós Bánffy - They Were Found Wanting

Beneath their feet the dust of the forest floor rose as they walked, and to Adrienne it was as if they floated weightless over clouds of heavenly vapour, returning unharmed from the gates of Hell, ready now to defy the whole wide world. Balint had braved Uzdy in his lair and walked away free. She had at last denied herself to him and also walked freely away, and it was as if the fetters were melting away. Drunk with a sense of victory she walked on light and she knew where she was going. Putting aside all their previous caution Adrienne did not stop when they reached the boundary of her husband’s properties but strode on confidently at Balint’s side, heedless of the fact that when they reached the giant beech tree from which led the track to Balint’s hut she could be seen and recognized by the peasants using the same road on their way to market.

As soon as they arrived she flung herself into his arms, hungrily accepting his love … and only much later did she tell him what had happened the previous night.

DODO GYALAKUTHY’S MOTHER bought her an automobile. It was a handsome open car with a canvas hood of American design and it was capable of cruising at the then amazing speed of seventy kilometres an hour. At the same time she engaged a sensible and trustworthy chauffeur, old enough not to be too irresponsible, and gave her daughter permission to use the car as she liked, even for going alone to visit friends in the country. This last had not been easily granted but Dodo was a determined girl, strong-willed and sure of herself, who would have done whatever she wished regardless of any parental ban; and so Countess Gyalakuthy, the kind-hearted chubby Adelma, who realized this, had yielded to her daughter’s pleas all the more as she knew her daughter to be a sensible and clever girl who could be trusted not to do anything foolish.

Naturally this caused a great deal of talk when the older ladies got together for a gossip. ‘A young gel like that traipsing about alone God knows where! Did you ever hear anything so dreadful!’ cried the wizened old Countess Sarmasaghy, everyone’s Aunt Lizinka, when she first heard about it, and immediately ordered up her ancient pair of big-bellied carriage horses and drove over to Radnotfalva saying to herself that she’d put such a scare into that foolish Adelma that that would be an end to the matter. What she really wanted, of course, was to be the first to know all the details which she would then circulate, adorned and embellished, to her little clan of scandalmongering old ladies.

Nothing she could say could remove the smile from Countess Gyalakuthy’s good-natured face.

‘My daughter is no longer a child,’ she said calmly. ‘She is of age and there is no need for me to watch over her all the time. Dodo is quite capable of looking after herself.’

And so Dodo proved herself. Nothing she did provided any food for the ladies’ scandal teas. There was nothing very dreadful to be inferred from the fact that she drove over to Var-Siklod or Mezo-Varjas to play tennis — and as it was well-known that none of the young men was paying court to her the harvest of sly innuendo was meagre indeed. Aunt Lizinka soon dropped the matter when she found that there was nothing scandalous there for her to get her teeth into.

So Dodo went where she wanted and no one thought any the worse of her for it. Sometimes she made quite long trips simply for her own pleasure, driving up the Maros valley or up to the mountains of Torocko. She loved speed and when at the wheel herself would drive as fast as she could.

One cloudy morning in late September, her cobalt-blue sports-car could be seen rushing down the slope of the Felek. There was hardly any sound on the mile-long stretch for Dodo had turned off the engine. Occasionally there was a slight whine as she braked at the corners. Then she slowed down only to speed up again when she reached the straight road ahead. Dodo drove calmly and with great concentration, touching the horn only if it were necessary to warn others on the road of her approach. She had learned well how to assess the space between the carts she might want to pass and she drove as if she were thinking of nothing else. In fact, the car and the road occupied only one part of her mind, the practical, active part. The other was far away as she went over in her mind some of the things that had recently happened to her and what she had now decided to do.

Since they had moved back to their country place in May she had only occasionally been able to see Laszlo Gyeroffy. With much cunning she had lured him over to Radnotfalva, having organized a tennis tournament with the sole purpose of having an excuse to invite him. Then she had kept him there for several days talking to him about music and getting him to play for her. It filled her with joy that she could get this normally withdrawn and shy young man to talk freely to her, his reticence melting away as she encouraged his confidences. She knew he did not love her, but she also knew that he found her sweet and sympathetic.

After he had gone home they had exchanged letters. Dodo wrote asking questions about music, sending him scores and asking for his opinions. And Laszlo always answered her letters, though not always at once, and when he did so Dodo seemed to sense something behind his words, something deeper that suggested some emotion other than mere polite interest. A week before he had sent her a little song, somewhat roughly put down on the page, a sad little melody that could hardly be thought a song of love. He had written that it was quite old but she wondered if he had said that only because he had not dared to admit that, maybe, it was new and that he had written it for her.

The thought of this filled her with hope and joy.

The blue car speeded across the valley, crossing the river at Apahida and turning off at Tarcsa. As Dodo got nearer to Kozard she began to feel a little scared at her own temerity, wondering how Laszlo would respond to what she was going to propose.

Very carefully Dodo had gone over in her mind everything that she knew about him and every word that he had spoken to her. She knew that he had loved Klara Kollonich, his cousin, but that she had thrown him over a year and a half before and married someone else. Now, thought Dodo, surely there had been time enough for the hurt to wear off. The last time Laszlo had been to stay there had been no sign that he still gave any thought at all to his old love. Then, for once, he had seemed light-hearted, even jovial, and had said things that could only encourage her in her hopes, phrases like, ‘You’re the only person I can talk to like this. Only you understand these things’. That sort of remark must mean something, even if they were only talking about music. Dodo was sure that he meant more than he said, that he was trying to hint at his feelings; and she believed this because she wanted to.

The village of Kozard consisted only of a few small peasants’ houses and one larger old building in which was a grocery store. When Dodo’s elegant car drew up in front of the store the owner, Mor Bischitz, looked out with joy in his heart. Anyone who owned such a wonderful vehicle must surely be great and important and noble indeed! Quickly he stepped out, respectfully doffing his wide-brimmed hat and revealing the little skullcap on the crown of his head from which no practising orthodox Jew would ever be parted.