Miklós Bánffy - They Were Counted

That afternoon Abonyi asked him to stay and take charge of the stables. And the little countess was pleased because it meant she would have her friend with her. All this had happened at the beginning of June.

Wickwitz soon took Dinora into his confidence and told her some of his plans. He said that he loved only her but he had to marry; there was no other way.

At Radnotfalva he was welcomed equally warmly. The widowed Countess Gyalakuthy was a kind good-natured woman, and she had noticed what a difficult time her daughter had. It would be good for her to be with someone who entertained her. And if it led to anything, if Dodo fell in love with him — though, as a foreigner and coming from a family of which she knew little, he was hardly the ideal son-in-law that she had had in mind — did it really matter? The widowed Countess suspected that this strong silent young man was really rather stupid, but he seemed to be a good boy who would appreciate her daughter and, after all, Dodo had enough brains for two.

Wickwitz had met Judith Miloth at the Gyalakuthys’ and, with the keen sense of the totally self-centred, he had felt that the young girl was attracted to him, something of which he had seen no sign in Dodo. Thinking in sporting terms, as he was apt to do, he had said to himself that one should not put all one’s money on the favourite but hedge the bet with a wager on a hopeful outsider. As there were three girls and a boy in the Miloth family it was clear the Judith’s dowry would not be large but, if the worst came to the worst and Dodo would not have him, it would surely be enough to clear the debts if he married her. Time was running out. One way or another he had to find the means to pay before his leave ended in December.

Something made a slight movement between Balint and Adrienne; it was the hedgehog who had come out from under the leaves of a big plantain weed that covered the ground just beside the path on which they waited.

The little animal moved with quiet confidence a few inches away from the place where Adrienne had rested her suede-gloved hand. Something must have struck him as strange as he sniffed warily to catch its unfamiliar smell, the little snout covered with fine hairs quivering with concentration. He looked around with little bright button eyes and his needle-sharp quills, sleekly at rest, seemed as smooth as a soft fur coat. Such a strange little animal, he did not hurry, but moved deliberately down the path, sniffing to right and to left as he went, for all the world like a miniature bear. Suddenly he was no longer there. Without any noise and moving surprisingly swiftly he disappeared off the path; and even the grass did not move in his wake.

As he finally vanished from their sight, young Zoltan and the girls cried out: ‘Why didn’t you catch him, Addy? He was right there, beside you. What a shame! You ought to have caught him!’

For a moment Adrienne did not answer. Then she said: ‘I couldn’t! We shouldn’t do it! Poor thing, we must let him live his own life. He must be free.’

Her voice sounded faint, remote …

After dinner they all sat in the countess’s sitting-room and listened to Akos Miloth’s stories of his days with Garibaldi. He was happy to have someone there to whom he could recount all over again the tales his family had heard so many times already. He loved to recall those days and the stories had been well polished with retelling. He had fought in Sicily with the Thousand and had had many adventures which were fascinating to anyone who had not heard them before. Count Miloth told them well, with humour and without conceit.

His daughters grew impatient and soon fled back to the dining-room where they had laid out a jigsaw puzzle, which was then all the rage and which they had brought back from the party at Siklod. Soon they became completely absorbed.

‘Come on, AB, come and help us,’ they called after a while. But Balint, out of politeness to his host and because he was so interested in the tales he was hearing, did not obey until Adrienne came back into the sitting-room and, laughing, took his hand, dragged him up from the sofa and led him into the adjoining room.

The next morning Balint was woken by voices calling to him. Someone knocked on the shutters of his room and called out: ‘Come on, lazy-bones, get up! We’ve been up for hours!’

In fifteen minutes he had joined them on the long veranda where they were having breakfast. The girls and young Zoltan had already finished and could hardly wait for Balint to drink his coffee and buffalo milk. Then they all walked up through the garden, laughing and talking until they found a small meadow with a haystack, up which young Zoltan immediately climbed and started pretending to be an Indian chief doing a war-dance.

‘Come down, you idiot, you’ll spoil the hay!’ they shouted at him, but the boy just jumped about all the more, hooting war-cries.

At once the others joined the game and started besieging young Zoltan in his fort. Not that they took the war seriously, for as soon as Adrienne succeeded in getting to the top she changed sides and joined the enemy. Now the battle became more equal, two against three, and the outcome less sure; but suddenly one side of the haystack collapsed and Zoltan came tumbling to the ground, leaving only Adrienne on top clinging precariously to the stackpole. For a moment she hesitated, high above the ground, but, as Balint extended his arms towards her, Addy cried ‘Catch me!’ and flung herself into the air laughing. Somehow Balint did so, and for a moment she clung to him, her arms round his neck, knees bent, like a little girl hanging round her grandfather’s neck.

Her warm, shapely body pressed against Balint’s, her bare arms encircling his neck in a cool embrace, or at least what would have been an embrace if it had not been a game and their closeness unintentional. In those few moments, before she moved, while her slender female body was pressed to his, Balint felt desire welling up inside him, all his being crying out to go on holding her close, to kiss her warm naked shoulder, to make her his. He wanted to stay like that for ever, oblivious to everything and everyone around them; but Adrienne just laughed unconcernedly, and put her feet to the ground, apparently unconscious of anything but the merriment of their game.

They continued their walk all talking at once, teasing each other in easy comradeship, though Balint found it difficult to fit into their mood.

One of the maids ran up with a telegram for Adrienne. ‘Excuse me, it was the Countess who opened it,’ she explained as she handed the envelope to Adrienne.

Adrienne read the telegram. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘you can go back to the house now.’ Her expression showed only that she was controlling herself with a certain effort. She tucked the folded telegram into her waistband and turned to the others.

‘Where shall we go now?’ she queried. Zoltan suggested that they visit the cowsheds where there were some newborn calves. Everyone agreed and off they went, petted a few cows, stroked the heads of the farm dogs, teased the turkeys and chased the ducks into the pond. But however light-hearted they seemed, a cloud had come over their merriment. Even though only Adrienne knew what was in the telegram, its arrival had spoilt their mood and everyone seemed depressed. At long last it was time to return for lunch and they all went back to the manor house with dampened spirits.