Miklós Bánffy - They Were Found Wanting

Praying that he might pass without being seen he had the little carriage stopped and its rain-hood put fully up. He was just in time, for the ladies’ carriages were just around the next bend, hidden only by a few cottages beside the road.

‘Drive on,’ he called to the driver. ‘Quickly, now!’ and sat back on the seat pulling up his legs beside him so that anyone looking at the vehicle from the side would think there was no one in it.

This was quite unnecessary as everyone was so busy watching the hunt that Laszlo’s carriage passed unnoticed. Laszlo laughed softly to himself at the success of his ruse and sat up in a normal position. He did not stop to have the hood pulled down again as he was in a hurry to get to Apahida in time to meet Sara who had been loading some ewes onto a goods train.

In a few moments he was passing the meadow at Tarcsa.

Ambrus had had the music stopped as soon as the Master led the field out and the ladies’ carriages moved off. ‘Pack up!’ he called out, ‘and let’s get the hell out of here!’ He was in a bad temper because he had had to admit, even to himself, that all the trouble and expense, the gypsy band, the champagne and the flowers, had hardly been a success. Despite all his efforts to be the centre of attention, despite the loud-mouthed talk, the laughter and the chaff, no man with his feet on the ground could compete with the gallant riders in the elegance of their beautifully tailored red and green coats, their sparkling white breeches and, above all, the advantage they had perched up on those gleaming polished steeds! What he would not admit, even to himself, was that, surrounded by all those handsome, athletic young men, he felt old and unwanted; and it was this unacknowledged feeling lurking within him that made him even crosser than he had been before.

‘What the hell are you all dawdling about for?’ he shouted. ‘Get on with it, you louts!’

Shouted at in this angry fashion the musicians and the waiter completely lost their heads, and in their attempt to scramble back into their two carriages the chairs, the double bass and the cymbals somehow got strewn all over the road.

Meanwhile Uncle Ambrus and Akos Alvinczy walked off to find their own vehicles which had been left a little way off down the road.

At this point Mrs Lazar’s carriage drove up at a swift trot. The driver called out a warning and though young Akos jumped out of the way, not Ambrus. He had always been somewhat heavy-limbed and slow of movement — which he justified by saying ‘no gentleman ever hurries!’ — and so now he stood his ground and with an obscene curse waved his stick in front of the shaft-horse’s nose. The driver reined in at once.

‘What the Devil do you think you’re doing?’ shouted Kendy in a rage. ‘Are you trying to run me down, you peasant? Who are you? What sort of a dumb fellow are you?’

As he spoke he came nearer to the driver’s seat and in so doing saw Gyeroffy inside. He stepped back in amazement.

‘So it’s you, Laci? Are you trying to knock me over or what?’

Laszlo got down.

‘Forgive me, sir,’ he said politely. ‘My driver doesn’t know you …’ and, to soothe him, he added with a smile, ‘and anyway no one would ever expect to see you standing in the middle of the road!’

‘Nor is it my habit, but it’s St Hubert’s Day and the meet was here. I brought along some gypsies and a little wine. It was a fine sight, my boy! I’d offer you a drink but everything’s been packed up by now.’

‘Thank you, sir, but I’m in rather a hurry and must get on. Goodbye, sir.’

They shook hands. Laszlo got back into his carriage and they were just moving off when Ambrus suddenly went up and leaned in towards him. ‘Wait a minute!’ he said, laughing. ‘Wait, I say!’

During their brief conversation he had been looking at the carriage and the horses. He had heard a rumour that Laszlo had been seen in Kolozsvar with the attractive Mrs Lazar and that he was now living with her. Ambrus never liked to hear of other men’s successes with women and now his own disastrous outing made him want to hit out. With a cruel and mischievous expression in his eyes, he was about to speak when Laszlo remonstrated. ‘Really, sir,’ he started, but Ambrus cut him short.

‘First of all, young fella-me-lad, don’t “Sir” me! I’m not that old! And now, what the Devil are you up to, cowering back in the shade in bright sunshine? You’re up to no good, I can see. What sort of funny business is it, then? Come on, out with it! Where are you off to? Whose carriage is this? Any fool can tell it’s not yours. Come on, out with it! I won’t let you go until you come clean.’ And he stuck his foot like a spoke up between Laszlo’s seat and the driver’s.

Laszlo did not really see any harm in all this and he was living such a calm natural life with the charming and kindly Sara that it never occurred to him to be anything but honest, let alone to protest.

‘I’m going to Mrs Bogdan Lazar’s place at Dezmer, and this is her carriage. It’s no secret.’

At Sara’s name Ambrus yanked out his foot and began an ironic dance of joy, twisting his body and stamping his feet and crying out, ‘Ay-yi-yi!’ while clapping his hands as if in applause. ‘That’s good, that is! That’s rich! Bravo, my boy. Ay-yi-yi! Free room and board … bed and breakfast. That’s rich, that is!’

And more in the same vein, but Laszlo did not wait to hear. His face darkened as he said curtly to the coachman, ‘Drive on!’

Ambrus shouted more coarse jokes after the rapidly disappearing carriage, but Laszlo heard nothing. He leaned back into the cushions and it was a few moments before he began to realize the full import of what Uncle Ambrus had been saying. Of course he had at once sensed that Ambrus was out to hurt and to offend but when he began to grasp Ambrus’s real meaning it was as if he had been hit by a sledgehammer.

It was some time before he had fully disentangled the implications of Ambrus’s mockery from the coarse way it had been expressed. For some time now Laszlo had floated through life without heeding what was happening around him, and so he needed a few moments to come down to earth. He had still not fully analysed his new train of thought when the carriage drew up at the station and Sara got in. They drove off at once.

After a few seconds Sara, after looking hard at Laszlo, said, ‘What is it? Something’s wrong, I can see. What’s happened?’

‘It’s nothing. Nothing at all, really. Why?’ replied Laszlo in the most casual tone he could muster; and he looked her full in the face trying hard to smile.

‘Are you sure? Do you feel all right? Something is wrong, isn’t it? What’s happened?’

‘No, no, nothing! Nothing at all!’ he answered and they took each other’s hands and looked hard into each other’s eyes for a long time, she with concern and he with a fear he could not understand. Then suddenly Laszlo’s internal brakes failed and he could no longer control himself. He buried his head on her shoulder and wept like a persecuted child. For a long time he cried, feeling without reason that he had somehow lost this sweet loving woman to whom he owed his rescue from the hell of the last few years. At this point he knew only too well that the day would soon come when he would reject and throw her away, just as he had rejected and thrown away everything good that had ever come to him. And so, in the grief this moment of self-knowledge brought him, he clung ever more closely to her, grabbing her arms, her shoulders, her hands, so as to make sure that at least for this moment she was still there beside him. Still there, still there …

It was as well that the rain-hood was still up so that they could stay clinging together without anyone seeing them. And nobody did see them.