Miklós Bánffy - They Were Found Wanting

This is what Adrienne had been thinking about as she stared at the weird shadows on the ceiling of her room.

In the adjoining drawing-room the latch of the French window made an audible click. In the wave of joy at seeing Balint again all these painful memories were wiped from her mind.

‘This is no life!’ Balint said again. ‘This is no life at all!’ and he started again to enumerate all the arguments why Adrienne would have to find a way to divorce her husband. They were lying in bed, their bodies clasped tightly together, quite motionless. Their total mutual surrender made every position one of ease and comfort and, just as their souls fused so completely that they had no need of words to understand one another, so their bodies fitted in such harmony that they might have been unsophisticated wild animals entwined (even if in the cages of a zoo) in the simplicity of uncomplicated sleep. Their faces were very close, so close that their softly murmured words were almost kisses in themselves.

Balint was pleading ever more urgently for Adrienne’s divorce. It was necessary, it was inevitable. He used every argument, going over and over the awful circumstances of her life — and his.

It all sounded completely convincing as they lay together, naked flesh to naked flesh, his arms holding her closely, his hands caressing her skin and his lips breathing kisses. Everything spoke to them of freedom, of liberation, of the inevitability of their being forever together. Even so Addy managed somehow to remain calm and matter-of-fact.

She was thinking that perhaps their dream really could be realized. Recently Uzdy no longer seemed actively to exercise his old tyranny and indeed while she had been nursing their child he might almost have been avoiding her … not that that proved anything for it had happened often before in their life together. Uzdy, she knew well, was nothing if not unpredictable. But there was another question, a serious question, that weighed upon her mind. What was to become of the child? It was unthinkable that she should leave her behind, abandon her! Little Clemmie could not just be sacrificed, as she would be if Adrienne went away and left her to the influence of her husband and mother-in-law. That would be the ruin of the child. Already she was strangely introvert and silent, unnaturally reserved for someone of her age. For this Adrienne was sure that her mother-in-law’s cold severity was entirely responsible and she felt it was for her to come to the child’s rescue. But could she succeed? Even supposing that Uzdy were willing to divorce, one thing was quite clear. He would want his revenge and would stop at nothing to punish her. The old woman would fight to the death to keep her grandchild with her and if Uzdy listened to anyone it was to his mother. Therefore this would be the most dreadful of all obstacles she was bound to encounter. After the last five months’ long struggle for control of the child Adrienne felt it would now be humiliating to withdraw.

All this flashed through her mind a brief instant, but she said nothing of it to Balint, only just murmuring to him, ‘And the child? What would become of her?’

Balint was taken completely by surprise. Up until now the interests of Adrienne’s daughter had never come between them and indeed had almost never been mentioned by her mother except when she had once told him how the child had been taken away; but then Adrienne had always spoken of her as someone who had not been hers for a long time. It had never occurred to Balint that he also had to think about the child’s future.

‘Why,’ he said lightly. ‘You will take her with you, of course!’ As he spoke it flashed through his mind that this little stranger might now for the first time come between them and help to strengthen her mother’s resistance to his pleading.

‘I couldn’t leave without my child, I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t’, and for the first time she did not look into his eyes as she spoke but gazed past him into the darkness. Balint could not bear to think that now she had gone away from him and that all her thoughts were miles away. His embrace became ever tighter, his mouth wandered all over her face, her neck, her shoulders and his kisses now had an extra purpose — to bring her back to him so dazed by his love that the fire in their souls would be rekindled and that its thousand different forces would all combine to wipe from their minds any thoughts or worries, anxieties, arguments or interests other than the joy of the moment.

What Adrienne had just said started a stream of thought which for some time lay dormant in his subconscious mind, emerging briefly and unformed only from time to time as he lay suddenly aware of his eternal solitude. Now he was lying on his back with his face almost covered by the waves of her long thick hair. From behind the wild thicket of her black curls and without Balint’s consciously forming the words, he heard his voice saying, ‘From me you will have a son, a beautiful son who will be the fruit of our love. He will inherit your ivory skin and my forehead, your golden eyes and my hair and, and … he will carry with him always what has been started between us, our thoughts and our beliefs.’

He said it very softly. And each time that his voice faltered, at each break in the phrases, he felt her hands squeeze his shoulders, and every soft nuance of pressure was an acquiescence in what he was saying. It was an answer clearer than any word, an answer of deeply felt agreement. And when he no longer spoke her arms slipped down until she held his body tightly to her and her mouth found his among the tangled locks of hair. A long burning kiss followed that was the seal of an unspoken promise, a vow, a solemn treaty of eternal intent …

Just as dawn was breaking Balint stepped out of the French window of Adrienne’s sitting-room into the narrow strip of garden between the house and the little wooden gate which opened onto the bridge across the narrow branch of the Szamos river. Here he had to be careful to leave no traces but luckily the snow was so hard in the shadow of the northern side of the house that it was only just when he reached the gate itself that he had to take an extra long stride so as not to sink into the mud beneath the snow. He looked back to make sure that he had left no tracks. There were none.

Once across the rickety little bridge Balint had the choice of walking along the path, now muddy with the first signs of the end of winter, or taking a detour through the park itself. As he was wearing galoshes he decided to brave the park. A light rain was falling but he did not care. It was so beautiful to walk in the growing light of dawn, for his heart was filled with hope — and this hope seemed to be echoed by the sleeping landscape beneath which he could sense the coming of spring.

Even the air seemed laden with promise, as was his own heart.

When they had said goodbye in Adrienne’s scented bedroom all she had said was, ‘I’ll try!’ and this was how they had parted. She would try to find an opportunity of raising the question of divorce, and, thought Balint, of course she will succeed, she must succeed. After all Adrienne and her husband hardly lived a real married life and so why should Uzdy want so hard to keep her, as Adrienne seemed to think? Surely it was only Adrienne’s absurd fancy that he would not agree to set her free? And anyhow there were laws which covered cases like hers,