Miklós Bánffy - They Were Found Wanting

It was amongst these plans that Balint made his search. He wanted to find out how the rooms in the west wing had originally been arranged. They had been altered many years ago for one of his great-great-uncles and had not been used since his death. It was here, he thought, that he would live after his marriage; but he guessed that many changes would have to be made, including, of course, installing those modern comforts that had formerly been unknown.

After poring over the plans Balint was just about to go himself to look once more at these rooms when he heard the sound of a car horn which seemed to come from the horseshoe-shaped entrance court. He looked out through the deep embrasure of one of the few windows.

A car entered the court at speed and stopped in front of the main doorway. It was obviously brand-new, and was bright red in colour. To Balint’s considerable surprise Dinora Malhuysen and Dr Zsigmond Boros descended and started to mount the steps to the door. Dinora, thought Balint; what could Dinora be doing here? Since the great scandal two years before Dinora had gone nowhere since, through no fault of her own, no one would now receive her. All she had done had been to sign, without realizing the implications of what she was doing, bank drafts for the benefit of her lover, the Austrian lieutenant of hussars, Egon von Wickwitz. When his frauds had been discovered — and he had fled the country rather than kill himself as his colonel had suggested — the publicity that the scandal aroused had left Dinora’s husband, Tihamer Abonyi, no choice but to divorce her. Since then all doors had been barred to her, and she had been treated everywhere as a pariah. She also found herself greatly in debt. It was rumoured that she was rarely to be seen on her estate in neighbouring Maros-Szilvas, and apparently spent most of her time in Budapest or elsewhere.

And now she had come to call on Countess Roza, stepping up to the castle entrance with all the assurance of someone whose arrival was expected!

Whatever it may have been for Balint, Dinora’s visit came as no surprise to his mother, who had written to the young woman who was shunned by everyone else, and asked her to call, saying how she would welcome such a visit. Countess Abady always followed her own instincts and had never been swayed by the opinion of others. And her own instincts were always highly individual and owed nothing to convention. A woman who had been widowed when still young and who had ever afterwards remained faithful to the memory of her beloved husband, Countess Roza had never been even interested in another man. If she ever thought at all about what other women might do she dismissed those who had lovers merely as different, almost as if they belonged to a third sex. She did not judge them as she would have judged herself. She did not condemn them either. They were different, that was all. And with this lofty, indeed almost regal disdain for the opinions of the vulgar, it never occurred to her to follow the lead of those who now decided to cold-shoulder the poor little Countess Abonyi.

This alone, however, would not have been enough to justify suddenly inviting her to come to Denestornya.

Countess Roza had her own plans and her own reasons. Since that day in March when Balint had received Adrienne’s letter, she believed her son had finally broken with the only woman that Countess Roza had ever hated or wanted her son to avoid. Recently, however, there had arrived three letters in quick succession, and Countess Roza, to whom the mail was always brought first and who knew well what Adrienne’s handwriting looked like, realized that all was not as she had hoped; and the thought gave her a good scare. Of course, she thought, that wicked woman is so full of evil that she will somehow worm her way back into Balint’s heart; and she wondered what she could do to stop it. It was then that the idea of sending for Dinora came to her, for Dinora’s property was not too far away and it seemed that she had recently come back to live at home. In the past Balint, when still a student at Kolozsvar University, used — secretly, as he thought — to ride over to see the little Countess Abonyi, always going at night and taking the shortcut by the ford over the Aranyos river. It had been a nice distraction for him then; and it could be again. After all, her son needed amusement and surely, like most other men, the best amusement for him would be a pretty woman. Countess Roza never marshalled her thoughts with such cynical precision. They merely hovered uncertainly over what seemed a likely possibility. Nevertheless she had an unusually sly smile on her plump face when on the previous day she had sent a groom riding over to Maros-Szilvas with a letter of invitation.

Balint found the guests on the lower terrace where his mother liked to have tea in the summer. From there a magnificent vista stretched out over more than a mile of well-mown parkland flanked by tall stands of poplar.

His mother was already there and the butler was just laying the table.

‘I do hope you’ll forgive me,’ Dinora was saying, ‘for bringing Zsigmond Boros with me. I haven’t kept a carriage since Tihamer and I separated. We had such beautiful Russian trotters, do you remember? But Zsiga — Dr Boros — said that it was a luxury I couldn’t afford. And indeed what need have I of a carriage now? And then he had just come to pay me a visit, and he has a car, so I thought, I hope indeed, that you wouldn’t mind,’

Just a trifle coldly Countess Roza replied, ‘On the contrary, I am very pleased.’

Then Balint came up and as soon as she saw him Dinora jumped up, saying, ‘AB! How marvellous! I am glad to see you. Of course you know Zsiga Boros; isn’t he your colleague in Parliament? When did you get here? How are you?’

When everyone had finished greeting each other they sat down to tea. As was the custom in Transylvania this was an enormous meal of cold meats, hot scones and cakes brought out in relays by the two old housekeepers, butter, honey, fresh strawberries, tea, and iced coffee served with mountains of whipped cream.

Boros swiftly brought into play his beautiful baritone voice and in carefully modulated tones started to praise the layout of the park and its trees, the splendour of the view from the terrace, the grandeur of the horseshoe-shaped entrance court and of the great hall through which they had just passed. In this way he managed, bit by bit, to melt Countess Roza’s stony little heart.

At first she had been extremely suspicious of him. She found his clothes too well-cut for a country lawyer who was, when all was said and done, barely a gentleman. His spade-shaped beard was obviously no stranger to the curling tongs; there were too many rings on his fingers, and he reeked of scent. The old lady felt instinctively that there was something not quite right about this exaggeratedly elegant appearance. However, when Boros roundly declared that Denestornya reminded him of no less a place than Chambord, the French royal castle on the Loire, Countess Roza finally gave in and allowed herself to thaw. This was because, apart from her son, the only thing in the world that she truly loved was the huge beautiful house in which she had lived all her life.

When tea was over she herself suggested that Dr Boros might like her to show him the state rooms. Balint and Dinora could go for a walk!

A little later, when they reached the lime-tree avenue, Balint said, ‘And how is sweet little Dinora? I’ve often thought of coming over to see you, but they said you were away.’

‘That was a nice thought, AB. But you know it isn’t all that fun to be alone in the country. Besides, nasty little writs kept on being served and they tried to effect a seizure; so I thought it better not to be there so that they couldn’t find me. It’s all right now, of course. Everything has changed since Zsiga — Dr Boros, I mean …’