Julie Orringer - The InvisibleBridge

“Madame Novak,” Andras repeated. In his mind she appeared as she had that night at Marcelle Gérard’s party, quietly triumphant in her velvet gown and jasmine perfume-on the verge of effecting a twelve-hundred-kilometer separation between her husband and the woman he loved, the woman who had been his mistress for eleven years.

“So you know the situation, and why she might have done such a thing.”

“I know what happened in Paris,” Andras said. “I know why she has reason to hate Klara-or why she had reason to, in any case.”

“It seems to have been a persistent hate,” György said.

“You’re telling me that the authorities know. They know she’s here, and who she is. You’re telling me they’ve known for months.”

“I’m afraid so. They’ve compiled a great dossier on her case. They know everything about her flight from Budapest and what she’s done since then. They know she’s married to you, and they know all about your family-where your parents live, where your father works, what your brothers did before they entered the military, where they’re stationed now. There’s no chance, I’m afraid, that we could arrange an exemption for your brother at the common rate. Our families are connected, and the connection is known by those who have power in these matters. But even if we could convince your brother’s battalion commander to name a price-and that in itself is not at all certain, considering how many of those men are terrible anti-Semites-it might be impossible to produce the money. You see, I’ve had to make a financial arrangement to preserve Klara’s freedom, too. The chief magistrate in charge of her case happens to be an old acquaintance of mine-and happens, as well, to be intimate with my financial affairs, due to my removal from the bank presidency and my efforts to protest it. When the information about Klara emerged, he was the one to offer a kind of solution-or what one might call a solution, in the absence of any other source of hope. A sort of trade, as he put it to me. I would pay a certain percentage of my assets every month in perpetuity, and the Ministry of Justice would leave Klara alone. They would also see to it that the Central Alien Control Office renews her official residence permit each year. They don’t want her deported, of course, now that they’ve got her back in the country and can use her to their advantage.”

Andras drew a breath into the constricted passages of his lungs. “So that’s what you’ve done,” he said. “That’s where the money’s going.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“And she knows nothing about it?”

“Nothing. I want her to have the illusion of safety, at least. I think it’s best to say nothing to her unless the situation changes significantly for the better or the worse. If she knew, I’m certain she would try to stop me. I don’t know what form her attempt might take or what its consequences might be. I’ve informed my wife about the arrangement, of course-I’ve had to explain to her why it’s been necessary to dissolve so many of our assets-and she agrees it’s best to keep the whole thing from Klara for now. My mother disagrees, but thus far I’ve managed to make her see my perspective.”

“But how long can it go on?” Andras said. “They’ll bleed you dry.”

“That seems to be their plan. I’ve already had to place this house under a second mortgage, and recently I’ve had to ask my wife to part with some of her jewelry. We’ve sold the car and the piano and some valuable paintings. There are other things that can be sold, but not an endless supply. And as my assets diminish, the percentage inches up-it’s a way to keep the arrangement lucrative for this magistrate and his cronies in the Ministry of Justice. I believe we’ll have to sell the house soon and take a flat closer to the center of town. I dread that-it’ll become increasingly difficult to explain to Klara why we have to do these things. It’s not possible to claim József’s exemption as a continual drain of that magnitude. But Klara’s freedom may be infinitely dear. Now that the government has found a way to siphon away our assets, I’m sure they won’t stop until there’s nothing left.”

“But the government is the guilty party! Sándor Goldstein was killed. Klara was raped. Her daughter is the evidence. The government was responsible. They’re the ones who should be paying her.”

“In a just world, it might be possible to prove their guilt,” said Hász. “But my lawyers assure me that Klara’s accusations of rape would mean nothing now, particularly considering the fact that Klara fled justice herself. Not that they would have meant much at the time, mind you. Her situation was desperate from the beginning. If she’d stayed, the authorities would have pulled every dirty trick to demonstrate her guilt and hide their own. That was why my father and his lawyer decided she had to leave the country, and why they couldn’t bring her back. My father never stopped trying, though-until his dying day he hoped it might still be done.”

Andras rose and went to the fire, where the logs had burned down to glowing coals. The heat of them seemed to reach inside him and send a bright wave of anger through his chest. He turned to look into his brother-in-law’s eyes. “Klara has been in danger for months, and you didn’t tell me,” he said. “You didn’t think I could bear to know. Maybe you thought I didn’t know what existed between Klara and Novak in Paris. Maybe you’re afraid yourself that something’s happened between them here in Budapest. Did you plan to keep making these payments until the problem went away? Were you going to leave me in the dark forever?”

The furrows of Hász’s brow deepened again. “You have a right to be angry,” he said. “I did keep you in the dark. I didn’t feel I could trust you not to tell her. You have an uncommon relationship with your wife. The two of you seem to confide everything to each other. But perhaps you can understand my position, too. I wanted to protect her, and I didn’t see how the knowledge could help either of you. I imagined it could only bring you pain.”

“I’d rather have worried,” Andras said. “I’d rather have had the pain than been kept ignorant of any problem that concerns my wife.”

“I know how Klara loves you,” György said. “I wish you and I had gotten to know each other better before you were conscripted. Maybe if we had, you’d understand why I felt it was right to act as I did.”

Andras could only nod in silence.

“But as to the question of Klara’s fidelity, I can assure you I’ve never felt the slightest uncertainty in that quarter. As far as I can divine, my sister adores you and you alone. She’s never given me reason to believe otherwise, not in all the time you’ve been away.” He took the poker in his hand and looked toward the fire again, and his shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. “If I had anything like my former property or influence, I might be more certain of being able to do something for your brother. The military has become increasingly greedy regarding bribes and favors. But I’ll see if I can speak to someone I know.”

“And what about Klara?” Andras said. “How can we be certain she’s safe?”

“For now, apparently, the payments protect her. We can hope that the authorities will lose interest before my assets are exhausted. If the war goes on, they’ll have more pressing worries. As for taking the course we took before-in 1920, I mean-Klara’s leaving the country is an impossibility, particularly in her current state. Her comings and goings are too closely watched. In any case, it’s impossible to get entry visas now to the countries where she might be safe. We’ll have to persevere, that’s all.”