Miklós Bánffy - They Were Found Wanting

‘You can call him Zsiga to me, you know,’ said Balint reassuringly.

Dinora smiled and gave a little shrug of the shoulders. ‘Well,’ and she paused before going on, ‘and after all why not? He’s a most agreeable companion. And do you know,’ she said, putting her hand on Balint’s arm, ‘he’s taught me no end of things, things I never dreamed of … He’s quite a surprise, I can tell you!’

‘Legal things, of course!’ said Balint with a laugh.

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Dinora with a sensuous little giggle. Then she stopped speaking for a moment as if she were pondering over some secret. ‘Perhaps he learned it all from some famous cocotte , for it seems he goes every year to Trouville or Ostend.’

‘Is he as rich as all that?’ Abady asked, somewhat taken by surprise. ‘That sort of trip costs a lot of money!’

‘Oh, yes, plenty! And now he’s got even more, quite a large sum, I believe. He’s taken a very nice flat for me in Budapest. It’s not in my name, of course, so no one will bother me with those tiresome writs!’

‘But they can always put Maros-Szilvas up to auction if you don’t settle your debts!’

Dinora laughed gaily. ‘Oh no, they can’t! We’ve put the property in Zsiga’s name! On paper I don’t own anything … so they can’t catch me!’

Balint was dismayed at her folly. ‘But my darling Dinora, do you mean everything you own is now in his name? This is madness! You’ve put yourself entirely in his hands.’

‘Oh, he’s really a complete gentleman and … well, he’s crazy about me!’

‘But he can’t marry you. He’s got a wife and children already!’

‘I don’t care! I wouldn’t marry him anyway! What on earth for? Oh, for heaven’s sake, let’s talk about something else. Life is so beautiful, and I am glad to see you again, Little Boy! Do you remember? That’s what I used to call you … Little Boy!’ And she brushed against him just as cats do. Then she went on, with great charm and warmth: ‘Do you remember how awkward you used to be? But you were very sweet … and you could talk, how you could talk! I said then that one day you would become a great man.’

And she brought back the past to him so vividly he could not return to more serious subjects. Anyway, he reflected, she wouldn’t have listened and anything he said would have been wasted. Sweet little bird-brained creatures like Dinora must just be allowed to go on chirruping.

Balint waited for a few days before telling his mother about his plans. That she had gone so far as to receive the ostracized Dinora seemed to augur well for her relenting towards Adrienne. In the end it was Countess Roza herself who gave him the opportunity to raise the subject. Mrs Tothy and Mrs Baczo, ever vigilant and used to telling everything they saw or heard to their mistress, told her that Master Balint had taken to repeatedly visiting the unused rooms in the castle’s west wing. They had even discovered that he had made careful measurements and noted down everything that he had done.

‘Are you planning to do something with Uncle Pali’s rooms?’ asked Countess Roza one day after dinner.

Mother and son were together in her small sitting-room. Here the countess’s sofa was placed in the corner rather than in the centre of the room as it was in the house in Kolozsvar. Otherwise everything was arranged in just the same manner. The countess sat in the middle of the sofa, Balint in an armchair on her right; while the two housekeepers had their places opposite her, sitting busily crocheting at the table placed in front of the sofa.

‘Possibly. I do have something in mind and I wanted to speak to you about it, but …’ Balint, looking at Mrs Baczo and Mrs Tothy, let his voice die away without finishing the sentence.

Without even waiting for the dismissive wave of the hand that Countess Roza always used to send them out of the room, the old housekeepers gathered up their work and bustled away.

‘I was thinking,’ he said, ‘that if I were to get married I might think of living there, if it would be all right with you, Mama. Those rooms would really be everything we needed. The west wing is quite separate from the rest of the house and hasn’t been used for ages. It only needs very little alteration, and it wouldn’t affect any other part of the house.’

‘You are thinking of getting married?’ cried Countess Roza. ‘Now what would be the greatest joy I have ever known. Oh, tell me, tell me! I’ve waited so long for this, but didn’t dare to worry you about it, to try and push you …’ She stared hard at him with her slightly protuberant eyes and grabbed at his hand with her chubby little fingers.

‘Yes, I am,’ he said. ‘I’ve thought about it for a long time. I can’t go on like this … and for many years I have loved a woman …’

‘A woman!’ cried Countess Roza, startled, and withdrew her hand from Balint’s as abruptly as if she had just touched fire.

‘Yes! You’ve probably already guessed. It’s Adrienne Miloth; we’ve been in love for years.’

Countess Roza, for a moment, was speechless. Her joy was so suddenly turned to grief that she could hardly find words adequate to express her fury.

‘That — that — that person ! No! No! Never!’ and she went on repeating the same words: ‘No! No! Never!’, spluttering them out as if she were choking from suffocation.

‘But, Mama, darling Mama, I love her! I love her deeply and I’ve never loved anyone else. I never could love anyone else, not ever, I swear it. And she loves me!’

The old lady drew herself up and said scornfully, ‘Loves you ? That’s absurd — wicked. And she’s made you believe it? How can you be so blind, so stupid? What a donkey you are, my son!’ she said, as all the lies and slanders about Adrienne that had been repeated to her by Aunt Lizinka and the housekeepers rushed through her mind, and she thought of all the tales about affairs with Uncle Ambrus, with Adam Alvinczy and Pityu and a dozen others which those pitiless ladies had fed her for so long.

Balint felt the blood rushing to his head. With a great effort he tried to control himself and speak calmly. But when he spoke the anger within him could not be entirely suppressed.

‘I alone can know what she feels for me. It is after all my business and no one else’s!’

For a moment mother and son confronted each other without speaking.

Then Balint, speaking very slowly and with unmistakable emphasis, said, ‘I have decided to marry her as soon as she can obtain a divorce!’

Countess Roza then did something she had never done before: she lost her temper. Jumping up suddenly, she beat the table with clenched fists.

‘I will never agree! Never! Never! Never!’

Then, as if ashamed of this extraordinary outburst, she went over to the window and sat down at her desk staring blindly in front of her. She did not speak but her eyes glistened with rage.

Balint tried to reason with her. Again he repeated what he had said before, trying always to speak in a quiet restrained, almost humble, manner, for he well knew his mother’s tyrannical nature.

Because Countess Roza had such a respect for tradition he started by bringing up the case of his grandfather on his father’s side, who had also married a divorced woman. This had been generally accepted, and there was no stigma attached, since they were both Protestants. Then he returned to Adrienne and again told his mother that she was the only woman for him and that he could never settle down with anyone else. There never would be another, there never could be. Though he started calmly his mother’s stubborn refusal to answer him, even to speak at all, soon began to pierce his hard-won restraint.