They Were Found Wanting (52 page)

Margit said goodbye to Dodo and got down from the car. She looked around to see where Adam had driven their beautiful carriage.

The carriage was there, a little way off; but where was Adam? There was no sign of him. She looked around again and soon saw that he had joined the group at Uncle Ambrus’s. She ran towards him and was about to call out when she saw that her fiancé, who was standing with his back to her, was noisily toasting the others with a beaker of champagne and brandy, while Ambrus, Akos Alvinczy and Joska Kendy cheered him on.

Margit was filled with rage. How could he break his word to her like that! There he was, drinking again as soon as her back was turned! In a flash she decided to punish him. She would show him! And, as all the adventure-loving blood of the Miloths rose in her, she ran across to where Joska’s famous four-in-hand was standing nearby, jumped up into the driving seat and called over to that dashing gentleman-driver, ‘Joska! Take me after the hunt! Across the fields. I dare you!’

‘Of course I dare!’ cried Joska, as he ran over, and jumped up beside her. An almighty crack of the whip and away they dashed.

Only then did Adam grasp what was happening. Dimly
coming
to his senses he stammered, ‘M-M-Margit! I only … Oh, Margit! Margit!’

But Joska’s dappled greys were already far away. They did not remain on the road for long, but bumped across the railway tracks and into the meadows behind the hunt. No other carriage could have been driven like that, but then Joska’s wagon was no elegant gentleman’s carriage but a strongly-built farm cart, low on the ground and slung on iron chains rather than delicate springs. It could be driven across bumps and ditches without coming to harm.

Hardly had they crossed the rail tracks when from far below by the river bank came the cry ‘Tally-ho!’

By the time Adam had recovered his senses, dashed across to his own carriage and galloped some way up the road, the hunt was well away below him and the field streaming off into the distance.

As was only to be expected, the hare did not run straight along the valley to amuse the carriage trade above but soon cut off in a sharp turn up the hillside. The pack of harriers were in full cry behind him and after them the Master, the Whips, the
soldiers
, the Laczok boys and the rest of the field. The hare ran quickly across the railway line and, about two miles from the meadow where the meet had been held, crossed the road in front of the following carriages and disappeared up the bare hills to the left.

And behind them all came Joska and Margit in the
four-in-hand
at full tilt. Adam was in a terrible state. For a moment he had a wild hope that they would stop when they reached the road, but that was not the way of Joska. As if he were the Devil himself he set the horse diagonally at the uneven hillside and raced away after the last of the riders. All Adam could do was watch them helplessly as the low-slung wagon careered wildly as it followed old cart-tracks and cattle-crossings, and slithered its way across the dried-out yellow clay hillside. In a few moments they too were at the top where the hunt had just disappeared and then, after galloping briefly along the crest of the hill, they also disappeared from view.

In his distress Adam for one moment even thought of chasing after them, but he quickly reflected that his delicate American chariot would be broken to pieces before he had gone fifty yards up that terrible rough hillside. He looked around for a horse he could borrow but there was none there not harnessed to some
carriage
or other. And what’s more there was no one there capable of holding his high-spirited pair of horses if they decided to bolt, for the little stable-lad clinging precariously to the jump-seat could barely hold their heads when he left the carriage. And so he was chained to that elegant carriage, which was as showy as Dodo’s new motor and as useless except on the tarred road, forced to sit up there for all to see, unable to lift a finger to help his bride and made to watch whatever might happen with his heart beating hard and his head full of fear and anger and shame.

It might perhaps have been less cruel if after they had
disappeared
over the crest of the hill he could have imagined a halt in the chase and Joska’s horrible juggernaut being peacefully trotted along some country lane. But this was not to be. The hare, as they are apt to do, cut a circle and now reappeared running fast horizontally along the precipitous sides of the hill, with the pack in close pursuit and behind it the Master, the Whips and the entire field – with the soldiers still riding formally in a close-knit row. And there, barely a hundred yards in the rear, raced those four dapple-greys, firstly downhill with Joska’s wagon skidding after them, then horizontally over gorse and hawthorn bushes, lurching over stream-beds and goat-paths, tilting first in one direction and then in the other and all the time, with pipe clenched in his mouth, that dreadful Joska, reckless of everything except the chase and the reins in his hands, in full sight of Adam, and beside him young Margit with her hat on her shoulders, her hair loose and flying in the wind, holding hard to the seat with her hands but laughing and happy, happy, happy …

But Adam had never been so unhappy in his whole life.

As the hunt streamed across the railway tracks and crossed the road before climbing up the steep hillside on the other side, they passed in front of a half-covered open carriage which was being driven towards Apahida. In it sat Laszlo Gyeroffy who, after a day spent at his home at Kozard, was now returning to Mrs Lazar’s house at Dezmer.

Now, seeing riders in their full hunting panoply of pink and dark green, he remembered that it was St Hubert’s day and that, round the next bend in the road, he would surely meet everybody from his own world, that light-hearted, pleasure-seeking,
hard-drinking
world that he had shunned ever since the day of the Spring bazaar. The succeeding months had at first been a time of increasing deprivation and degradation. Then he had met Mrs Lazar, started leading a normal orderly life again, begun to work by helping her to run her substantial estates, and by now was
feeling
almost happy and at ease. He certainly had no desire to encounter any of those former friends who all knew his story.

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 …