Miklós Bánffy - They Were Found Wanting

Ambrus’s carriage was followed by two hired fiacres into which were squeezed Laji Pongracz and half his gypsy band, while a third contained a table, chairs, cases of champagne and brandy, and a waiter. Next to the driver was the gypsy musicians’ servant anxiously clasping a giant double bass.

Ambrus swore loudly in his usual fashion, climbed down from his carriage and, followed by the man carrying the flowers, walked up to Adrienne’s landau.

‘Well, God-be-damned, you beautiful ladies get up early!’ he cried as he kissed their hands. ‘Here am I, rising before dawn, trundling along these dusty country roads, trying through thick and thin to be here to greet you with music and flowers, and what do I find? To my undying shame you’re here before me! Ay-ay-ay, that’s just my blo … bad luck!’ Then, bending double in mock humility, he turned round, stamped his feet and called out to the band-leader, ‘Get on with it, you dummy! Play that sad song; can’t you see my sorrow?’

‘You are a fool — but a very sweet one!’ laughed Countess Laczok who, of course, was Ambrus’s cousin and had always thought him a great charmer.

Adrienne was laughing too, though a trifle coldly and with a distant air. She knew that this new escapade of Ambrus’s was meant for her — for he claimed, in his fashion, to be in love with her — and was designed only to compromise her in front of other people. He wanted them to talk about her in connection with him, as they had after his exhibition at the charity bazaar, and that was the reason for this display of flowers and gypsy musicians who were never normally brought to a meet. Every tongue was sure to wag, which pleased him immensely and was not, as it happened, as displeasing to Adrienne as her manner suggested. The truth was that she rather encouraged these attentions and the rumours to which they gave rise.

Of course it was all false. The rumours had no foundation but they served to draw attention away from the truth; and while people talked about her and Ambrus they were unlikely to gossip about the fact that the day before Balint had returned from Budapest, had already called to see her that afternoon, and again later … at night!

Adrienne knew that she could only play this dangerous game — which was now her whole life — if everyone’s attention was somehow drawn away from her real lover; and so she laughed coolly at Ambrus’s antics and stuck a flower from his huge bouquet in her bosom.

By now more and more carriages were arriving from the town and from the surrounding countryside. Some were aged vehicles dating from the time of their grandmothers, others were ramshackle country tarantas which were usually found only on the remoter farms. As each new vehicle arrived the men would get down and wander off to greet friends, while the ladies would remain seated and wave to each other from a distance. Ambrus’s wine-carriage had an immediate success, as did the gypsy music, even though everyone knew that the choleric old Master would explode with anger at such an unheard-of innovation. All the same, however unsporting it might be to bring gypsies and a running bar to a meet, everyone admitted that it gave a special flavour to the occasion especially as in Transylvania the moment someone started to disapprove everyone else would gang together and teasingly mock the other’s discomfiture.

Some riders came on their own, others in groups. Opposite the railway station of Apahida stood the hunt’s own headquarters and residence, the Hubertus House. There also were the kennels, the club-rooms and a vast range of stables for the visitors’ horses, and from there most of the day’s riders now trotted up to join those who were already at the meadow.

Among those who had already arrived were some of the older men like Stanislo Gyeroffy, Laszlo’s former guardian, on a large-boned shining black horse; the other Sandor Kendy, who was nicknamed ‘Zindi’ to distinguish him from Crookface, and, mounted on a powerful light chestnut, Major Bogacsy who, since retiring from the army, had been president of the Chancery Court which looked after the interests of orphans. The younger riders included Farkas Alvinczy, Isti Kamuthy, Pityu Kendy and Balint. Most of these last clustered round Adrienne’s carriage; but Balint merely waved to her from afar.

The retired major curvetted around the Miloth carriage. He had been one of Countess Laczok’s dancing partners when she had still been the young Ida Kendy, and now for more than twenty years he had always fancied that she would have married him if he had ever asked her. Today, therefore, he smiled at her from beneath his huge tomcat moustaches and flashing monocle, trying hard to suggest the intimacy of a shared past. For once his expression was pacific, indeed almost endearing; normally, as befitted the great if self-appointed expert on all matters affecting duels and the code of honour, he was all too apt to pull hideous and, he hoped, ferocious faces. Today, too, his stocky figure was to be seen at its best under great loops of gold braid for, so as to show everyone what a brave warrior lurked behind the mildness of the civilian, he had once again put on his uniform.

Until now Uncle Ambrus had remained at Adrienne’s side, but when all the younger men rode up on their splendid horses he went back to his wine-table and the gypsies, feeling that a man on foot did not cut such a gallant figure as those who, like fat little Isti and Pityu Kendy, paid their court from the lofty dignity of the saddle.

The young men also had the advantage of their smart hunting clothes. Most of them wore green coats with gold buttons, which were the form for hare-hunts; but on that day some there were who wore the hunting pink normally reserved for chasing deer or fox. However, all sorts of things were allowed on St Hubert’s Day, especially in Transylvania.

Everyone wore white breeches and capped boots and, with one exception, black velvet hunting caps. This was Isti, who was wearing a top hat and going from carriage to carriage explaining, with his usual lisp, that ‘that black velvet cap would not be allowed in England. There, only the Mathter and the Hunthman have the right. It’th quite out of order …!’

But no one minded or even took any notice. The riders looked splendid, whatever they wore, and the general picture was beautiful which was all that counted with most people. In the sparkling autumn sunshine the combination of colours, the green and red coats, the sheen of health on all the horses and, all around, the elegant, beautiful and highly painted carriages filled with the blossom-like dresses of the young girls went to make up a picture of rare beauty, like an old English print.

One new automobile there was which somewhat upset the general effect. This belonged to young Dodo and her new German husband, Udo von der Maultasch. It was only six weeks since he had managed to marry the richest heiress in Transylvania, and his manner was by no means as humble and retiring as it had been during the days of courtship. This morning he descended from this smart new Mercedes-Benz and walked about everywhere explaining to anyone whose attention he could catch that all this was not really the right way to organize a hunt and that ‘bei uns in Pommern — at home in Pomerania’ it was all done quite differently. Those young men on horseback escaped him easily by merely trotting away, but he soon found a captive audience in Akos Alvinczy who was seated with Uncle Ambrus at his wine-table. Ambrus was not having any of this and just brushed him off with one of his usual expletives.

Poor Dodo remained alone in her great new motor, for no one came near her, the others saying among themselves, ‘That stinking motor! They only brought it to annoy the horses!’