Miklós Bánffy - They Were Counted

She seemed thoughtful, as if weighing up something in her mind …

ON THE SECOND SATURDAY IN JULY, Riccardo Lobetti, the gondolier, who had hardly ever opened his mouth when he was with them as if he knew and understood that they wanted to be alone with their love, suddenly made them a proposition, volubly and excitedly crying: ‘ Domani sera, la festa del Redentore. Unabellissima festa.Magnifica!Aaah … magnifica …’

The great feast of the Redeemer, the most famous of the Venetian Carnivals, was to take place the following evening. Riccardo wanted them to see it from his gondola.

‘ Bisogna vederla! Bisogna vederla! Gran’ festa! — You must see it, it’s a great festival’ he said, waving his hands in the air to emphasize what an important occasion this was. They accepted at once.

About ten o’clock Riccardo arrived at the Palazzo Dandolo, where he picked up Adrienne and rowed her to the Piazzetta where Balint was waiting. Lobetti, who normally wore a grey linen garment, none too clean and much worn, was now clad in all his finery; a bright red silk shirt, white and yellow striped cotton trousers, and round his waist a magnificent broad green cummerbund with golden tassels. He was resplendent, and his gondola was the same. In the place of the canvas-covered cabin he had constructed a great sea-shell of basket-work covered all over with flowers, and flowers also decorated the length of the gunwales right up to the high curved prow from whose top hung a lighted oil-lamp.

‘ Per la donna — for the lady!’ repeated Lobetti several times, bowing deeply when they congratulated him. They moved off slowly towards the Giudecca.

There were some lights visible in the distance, but the moment that they had rounded the point of the Dogana they were greeted by a marvellous and unexpected sight.

The great stretch of water, three hundred yards across, between the Zattere and the three islands of the Giudecca, was spanned by a temporary bridge festooned with electrical bulbs in the form of arches and pillars of fire. On one side the great Palladian church of the Redentore was a blaze of light and everywhere there were boats, thousands of them, covering the water as far as they could see. The state barges of the old patrician families had been brought out; every gondola in Venice seemed to be there and all were covered with flowers glowing in the light of baroque lanterns. Here also were the long barges normally used for transporting seaweed or wood or reeds across lagoons, the broad market boats that supplied the markets all through the week, little sandali and other rowing boats, all packed with people in festive clothes. Everyone mingled together, the richest beside the poorest, the lavish beside the meagre. One thing they had in common: all were decorated and everywhere people were laughing and happy. Some of the smaller craft, like Riccardo’s gondola, carried a bower of flowers, while the large barges had tables laid with food and drink and were peopled with handsome young men and pretty girls. The boys played guitars and mouth-organs and caressed the girls, who in their turn laughed and sang and giggled and kissed the boys and hid their faces in their brightly coloured shawls, those scialli which were an essential part of Venice’s traditional costume. Every boat was packed with as many people as could crowd aboard and everywhere was laughter and happiness.

In the centre of this vast crowd of boats was the largest of them all, the ‘Serenata’, which rose in the water high above all the others and was hung with delicate paper lanterns. On board all the singers were in theatrical costume and on the deck Balint and Adrienne could just see the faces of Harlequin and Columbine dancing a pantomime, though they could not get close enough to make out what the others were doing.

Behind them many other gondolas were being rowed as swiftly as their gondoliers were able, everyone wanting to be right at the heart of this great concourse of boats. In front of them there were so many craft that Balint and Adrienne could not see the surface of the water and, looking back to the Dogana, they saw that it was now the same behind them as well. It was a world of boats, nothing but boats, stretching across the waters as if the world were made of nothing else.

Then, from behind the gleaming temporary bridge, the fireworks began.

To Balint and Adrienne this was almost more dreamlike and unreal than had been their solitary excursions across the lagoon each evening. In the sky the myriad stars of exploding flame made the night sky seem even darker and more remote and, though the spectators were nearly blinded by the brightness of these lightning flashes of brilliance, to those standing behind, everyone in front of them became mere shadows, dark silhouettes rather than real living people. So it happened that for Balint and Adrienne, though they were surrounded by life and light and noise and the whole pulsating festive crown, it was still as if they alone existed and were real.

It was their last carefree evening together.

The next morning, as on every other of their stay on the Lido, the younger Miloth girls went swimming while Mlle Morin remained in the shade of the beach cabin.

A little later, Margit, who was coming in from a long swim, heard shouting, not as might be expected from the shore but farther out to sea. She put her feet to the ground and stood up. She could not see much as the sea came up to her shoulders. All she could make out was that the noise came from the loud-hailer on the guard-boat. Margit realized at once that someone must be in difficulties as the guard-boat was no longer at anchor and stationary, but was being rowed frenziedly out to sea by the two guards.

Margit looked around, her eyes searching for Judith, who should have been close behind her: she was nowhere to be seen.

Instinctively, she knew the alarm was for her sister, who must have swum too far out to sea, to the undertow and the fatal offshore currents. From where she was standing on tiptoe, the sea coming up to her shoulders, all Margit could see was a tiny speck that from time appeared above the waves. She was certain it was Judith and at once struck out as fast as she could towards that little speck, her strong young arms cutting the water in a powerful crawl. She thought of nothing but how to save Judith and, as her head was half under water, she head nothing more of the commotion on the beach and did not see that a motor-launch was being hurriedly pushed out into the shallow water.

Margit had to work hard to make headway against the waves. Water splashed over her but she battled on, using all her strength so as to get there as quickly as possible. She never heard the launch race past her and it was already returning to shore when she suddenly found herself being hauled on board. It was just in time, for she was now so tired that she too was at breaking point and had to be lifted out of the water by the strong arms of the beach guards.

Judith was lying like a corpse in the middle of the boat. Margit crouched by her, panting. At this moment the ambulance boat arrived alongside and Judith was lifted into it. Artificial respiration was started at once as the hospital launch sped towards the shore.

Judith was still not breathing when she was carried onto the beach. They laid her down and once again tried to pump life into her unconscious body.

At this moment Adrienne arrived on the beach. Seeing the tumult and confusion in front of the hotel beach cabins she asked someone what had happened.

‘ Una donna ungherese e morta! ’ was the reply.