Miklós Bánffy - They Were Counted

The only time that Adrienne would be able to talk to Balint unobserved would be in the middle of the night. Luckily she had discovered that though the little cane gate was nailed into place, the nails were so rusty that it was easily opened. And it could be closed again just as easily. Adrienne checked it again when her sisters had briefly left the room to change.

All the same she was not completely happy about this midnight rendezvous. She wondered how she should receive Balint. Every night her sisters remained with her while she undressed and went to bed, and they often then stayed on chatting until it was late. They would think it odd if she suddenly decided to do something different. Obviously she would have to keep to their nightly routine, but should she get up and dress again after the girls had gone to their own room? It would be rather complicated. Perhaps she should just put on a wrap so as to give the signal for Balint to come in … but then she realized that this would not do either. A wrap would be quite wrong, it might open, for such silken garments were difficult to keep closed, and the last thing she wanted to do was show him a bare knee or shoulder, which he might wrongly take as an invitation. Adrienne shuddered at the thought of being misunderstood. All in all, it would be best to be already in bed when he arrived. Balint had already been in her room at Almasko, and she could easily pull the bedclothes well up as she had done then.

There was just a slight click as Balint opened the french window as silently as he could. Then she heard the door close again. Slow, careful steps, just audible on the floor-boards, and in a moment he was framed in the doorway to her room, the candlestick in his hand. Swiftly he put it down on a side-table, took off his hat and coat, threw them over a chair and came towards the bed. He kissed Adrienne’s forehead as would a brother.

Balint could just see that Adrienne was looking up at him with frightened hostility, but, seeing that the young man’s manner was quiet and composed, the hostility slowly died from her expression and she relaxed. He sat down in a chair at the foot of the bed.

‘What is it? What has happened? I’m glad you sent for me. Naturally I came at once,’ he said softly.

Adrienne replied in the same low tones. She told him all about Wickwitz’s letter and about her anxiety because Judith had been placed in her care. She had no one, she said, whom she could trust to help or give her advice, who would let her know if Wickwitz arrived in town and who, away from the Uzdy house, would be able to keep an eye out and tell her when she had to be particularly watchful. She felt completely helpless, and there was Judith’s good name to think of.

Adrienne told her tale as dispassionately as if she were asking legal advice in some lawyer’s office and not lying in her scented bedroom. Because she was speaking only in whispers, Balint left the chair he had chosen and came and sat beside her on the bed. As she talked Balint lowered himself down until he was reclining beside her, his head supported on one elbow, his left ear close to her mouth. Now they could talk so quietly that no one near at hand would have been able to hear a word of what they were saying. Consciously subduing his desire, he calmly and matter-of-factly answered all her questions, calmed her fears and agreed to keep watch in town and let her know the moment that Wickwitz arrived in Kolozsvar. In the meantime he would try to think out some plan.

The whole time that Balint was with Adrienne half of his brain was searching for a way to making sure that one day soon, perhaps even tomorrow, she would let him again visit her during the night. Then, or later, perhaps Addy would feel desire welling up in her and, even if it were the merest spark on her side, the moment would be ripe.

He was glad that at Portofino he had already written some sixty pages of the treatise that he had first envisaged when lying in her arms. Now he turned the subject of their conversation to this, saylng that he must read it to her and that their only chance would be if he were able to come to her secretly in the night. He explained at length that it was so important for him to read what he had written out loud, for only in that way could he be sure of the quality of what he had written. Eventually Adrienne said that he could come again on the following evening. Happy with this promise he went no further that night and, even when he kissed her farewell, he did so gently, without any rash sign of passion, so that she should not be alarmed or frightened into telling him not to come again. When he gave her his last kiss, he made it only slightly deeper than before and held her only iust a little more tightly. No more. His inner voice told him that it would have been folly to risk losing the ground he had only just regained.

Life can be very bizarre, he said to himself as he walked briskly home down the path that followed the river bank in the park. If anyone knew where I had been they’d never believe that I am not that woman’s lover! And God knows if I ever will be!

LASZLO GYEROFFY ARRIVED IN KOLOZSVAR shortly after Balint. He came from Varad and was even more bitter and disillusioned than before. The reason he had been to Varad was to see a money-lender, a certain Blau, who called himself a private banker. This was the same Blau who held Countess Abonyi’s promissory notes which had been countersigned by Wickwitz. Laszlo had been trying desperately to raise the sum of eighty-six thousand crowns so as to be able to redeem Fanny’s pearls. At first he had hoped that a good run of luck at the gaming table would put him in funds but somehow it had not turned out quite as he had expected. Most of what he won was apt to disappear the next evening and if there was anything left this too was soon spent. First Laszlo had tried to touch the money-lenders he knew in Budapest. They all refused, making various excuses but without revealing the real reason, namely that they had all heard tell that Laszlo was not only plunging deeply at the gaming tables but also drinking far too much. An acquaintance from Behar had let drop that he knew this useful fellow in Varad and that had been the ‘business’ for which Laszlo had gone there.

The visit was hopelessly unsuccessful. Laszlo never wanted to go near the man again; indeed he had run from his office in flight.

At the start of their discussion the self-styled banker announced that it was not his practice to lend money on a single guarantee and asked Laszlo if it was not possible for him to find, among his large acquaintance, some friend who would add his signature and so vouch for him. Then he began to ask questions as to who Laszlo’s friends were in Transylvanian high society. At first it seemed to Laszlo that the money-lender merely wanted to find out about his family connections, so he replied quite openly and truthfully, especially as this Mr Blau had an educated manner and played to perfection the part of the sympathetic financier. Blau had used this approach as a cover for what he really wanted to find out. Recently he had become increasingly worried by the matter of the Abonyi-Wickwitz loan. Now he regretted having been induced to have anything do with extending Dinora’s notes of hand, for he had had no reply from several letters addressed to the countess, and it had also proved impossible to pin down Baron Egon. He had been wondering whether he should take Dinora to court or whether he should denounce Wickwitz to his superior officer. Both procedures were bound to be difficult and unpleasant, both would bring much publicity; and too much publicity was always undesirable in his business. Action of that drastic sort should only be taken as a last resort, and so, when this Count Gyeroffy came to see him, he thought that fate had provided him with the solution. The noble Count might perhaps be so good as to intervene discreetly and explain to this rich lady that she really must pay; and, as for the officer, tell him what a scandal there would be if the matter became public knowledge.