Csardas Page 9

  “Is he going to stay there?” asked Leo grudgingly as the smell of goulash began to pervade the mountain air.

  “Just until he has eaten.”

  “Who will take his food to him?”

  “You will,” said Eva brightly. “You and Jozsef will take his food to him, and Mama and Amalia and I shall go for a walk and leave you.” Two white faces turned and stared at her, and Eva suddenly exploded into laughter. “I hope there’s enough goulash for Uncle Sandor,” she continued wickedly. “Who knows what he may eat if he gets hungry enough?”

  Jozsef swallowed hard. He was the elder, and besides, he felt sure that Eva must be teasing. A quick glance at his brother showed that Leo’s face had turned very red and his plump cheeks were beginning to quiver.

  “Oh, Eva, really!” said Mama crossly. “You shouldn’t be so unkind. Now see what you have done. I shall go home if the boys begin to cry. My poor head couldn’t bear it.”

  Malie put an arm around each of them. “When we have eaten,” she whispered, “you and I, just the three of us, will go high into the mountains, as high as we can, and I will show which way is Russia and which way is Austria, where the King lives. Perhaps we shall even be able to see a castle.”

  Amalia, and the plates of goulash, made things sane again. Eva took a large plate of food over to Uncle Sandor and the boys watched very carefully to see what he would do. Uncle Sandor pulled a brown kerchief over the knee of his trousers and took the plate from Eva. Then he proceeded to eat. From this distance it was impossible to see his teeth.

  After the food, Mama and Eva went to sleep in the sun. Amalia put her straw hat on again and began to lead them up through the forest, through a just discernible path. There were rustlings on either side, and once they surprised a pair of pheasants which sprang up, shrieking, in front of them. They found the small black body of a dead mole, its hands curled close to its face, and Jozsef discovered a stone shaped like a dog’s head. It was a good track and it led to a promontory of rock from where they could see stretch after stretch of mountains all covered in oak forests.

  “There. That way is Russia,” said Malie, pointing. “If you could walk for long enough, up and over the hills and through the rivers and marshes, you would come to Russia.”

  They stared for a moment, then became bored and wriggled away from Amalia, chasing off into the trees. “Don’t go far, boys!” she cried, but they only giggled and Jozsef made a rude noise with his mouth.

  “We’ll wait until she goes to sleep—grown-ups always go to sleep—and then we will jump out on her,” he said with relish.

  They watched her yawn, sit down with her back against a rock, and close her eyes. They waited a moment, then jumped—roaring—out of the trees. But before they came close to her a man in a uniform like Uncle Sandor’s walked into the clearing from the track. He ignored them and walked straight up to Amalia. They waited, afraid both for themselves and for Malie, to see what he was going to do. He did nothing—no, not quite nothing, for he smiled a little sheepishly at her and nodded as though they had met before.

  “We rode up after your coach,” he said, very dignified, and yet there was something shy about him. “Your mama and your sister told me you had come this way through the forest.”

  Malie stood up. She was awkward—most un-Malie-like—and she began to brush grass and dirt from her skirt.

  “Do you remember my name? Do you remember seeing me before?”

  “Karoly Vilaghy. At Kati’s birthday party.”

  “I am staying with Cousin Alfred. We called on you this morning, just after you had left for your picnic. Your aunt and Cousin Kati are back in the clearing, with your mother.”

  Amalia picked an ant from her skirt. “Oh,” she said foolishly.

  The boys grew bored again. The soldier, in spite of the Uncle Sandor uniform, was harmless, and he and Malie were obviously not going to do anything interesting. Jozsef pushed Leo onto the ground and began to stuff leaves down his neck. Leo roared, surfaced, and chased his brother into the trees.

  “You are not to go too far away, boys,” Malie cried. “Play close to the track.”

  They didn’t answer. They peered through the trees and saw that she had sat down again, very prim and upright this time. The soldier was beside her, lounging on the earth in spite of his smart red trousers.

  Jozsef discovered a hoard of last year’s acorns and cups. They had a race to see who could collect the largest number and then they stood on opposite sides of the track (Jozsef was the Austrian army and Leo the Prussian) and hurled them at each other. After a while they saw a glimmer of white through the trees. Malie was walking very slowly down the track with the soldier. They were talking softly, and Leo and Jozsef waited behind the bole of a tree.

  “Brrrraah!” they shouted, jumping out. Malie jumped and looked suddenly very cross, so cross that Leo went up and burrowed in her skirt.

  “Why don’t you run on and find Eva and Kati,” she said impatiently. She turned to the soldier and smiled, and Leo was instantly jealous. He moved round to walk between her and the soldier, holding her hand and trying to push her away from the hussar.

  “You’re pushing me off the track, Leo!”

  “I love you, Malie,” he said fiercely, glaring at the soldier.

  Malie looked down at him, sighing, and then she said kindly, “All right, Leo, you can walk with us if you want to.”

  He hated the soldier. They had been having a lovely day until he came. He waited until Malie was looking in the other direction and then he pulled a horrible face at the lieutenant, the one where he crossed his eyes and blew his cheeks and nostrils out. When he did it to the dogs they ran away.

  “That’s quite enough of that,” said Karoly Vilaghy, and Leo found himself swinging through the air, right up onto the soldier’s head. He could see for miles! He could see right down the track into the Meadow and over the trees in three directions.

  “I can see the world!” he shouted gleefully to Jozsef, and at once Jozsef began to pummel the soldier’s legs and say it was his turn. It had become a good day again.

  When they arrived back at the Meadow there was a lot of tedious grown-up conversation with Aunt Gizi and Kati, all about who was related to who and what kind of plans they could make for the summer. Eva flirted with the soldier, and Amalia stood about looking silly with a permanent smile on her face.

  They raced away to the stream, had a fight over the dog-shaped stone, fell in, and had to be hauled out by Karoly Vilaghy.

  “It is time we went home,” said Mama wearily. “Any more of this and my migraine will come back.”

  Everything was packed into the box. Uncle Sandor came over, lifted it to one shoulder, and vanished into the trees. The late-afternoon sun was warm and golden and they were relaxed, all of them, even Aunt Gizi, and full of the lethargic gentleness of a summer afternoon. The leaves on the trees were small and green, the grass was crisp and new, and all around them it smelled of things growing. Even Uncle Sandor must have sensed the summer for he drove very slowly and didn’t growl at all when he had to stop and let the boys take turn and turn about between the coach and a ride on Karoly Vilaghy’s grey horse.

  Leo was asleep when they arrived home. Karoly lifted him down from the coach, and he woke up enough to say, “What a lovely picnic it was, Malie. Can we go again next week?”

  Malie hesitated, smiled, then said, “We’ll go as often as we can... until Papa comes.”

  They went many times to the Meadow, sometimes as often as three or four times a week. Once they had a great big picnic with Uncle Alfred, Aunt Gizi and Kati, and Felix and Adam Kaldy, and two servants to make the picnic. It wasn’t very much fun. Uncle Alfred complained about the bees and said he couldn’t get comfortable leaning against a rock, and Aunt Gizi seemed to spend the day preventing Felix from talking to Eva. Mama said her headache had never been so bad, and the picnic ended when poor Cousin Kati dropped her hat into the stream and, while trying to retrieve it,
soaked the skirt of her muslin dress. Aunt Gizi slapped her. In front of everyone she slapped her; even the little boys could feel what a horrible, embarrassing thing it was to do. Kati cried and Aunt Gizi scolded her all the way home. The only people who enjoyed that picnic were Karoly and Amalia, but then they enjoyed them all.

  Gradually, as people became bored with the Meadow, the picnics dwindled to the very best sort—just Malie and Eva, Mama, and Karoly Vilaghy. Sometimes he came in the coach with them, but more often he would be waiting for them at the Meadow with his horse tethered to a tree.

  After they had all eaten the boys would beg Malie and Karoly to take them up to the top of the mountain. They knew that, once away from the clearing, they could run off alone into the woods and Malie and Karoly wouldn’t even notice. Once, in the middle of digging into an ants’ nest with Leo’s shoe, Jozsef asked, “Do you think Malie and Karoly will marry each other?”

  “Of course not,” said Leo indignantly. “People have to be in love to marry each other.”

  “Perhaps they are. They talk a lot, don’t they?”

  Thoughtfully Leo poked and prodded at the heap of earth. Ants ran hysterically in all directions.

  “Let’s spy on them and see what they’re doing,” said Jozsef.

  They took off their remaining shoes and crept very quietly through the trees. When they were close enough, Jozsef motioned Leo to the ground.

  “See,” he said. “I told you.”

  Karoly and Malie were holding hands. He was talking but they couldn’t hear his words. At one point he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, not the back of the hand like Felix Kaldy did but the palm. He took much longer to kiss it than Felix did too.

  They were all very quiet going home that afternoon. Malie and Karoly were absorbed in some private dream and didn’t talk, and the little boys were worried. They didn’t know why they were worried except it was something to do with Papa. Every time Leo thought of Karoly kissing Malie’s hand, and then thought of Papa, he began to feel sick.

  The next time they went to the Meadow, Karoly refused to take the boys up to the top of the mountain. He said he wanted to stay and talk to Mama. “Eva will take you,” he said.

  “I want to read my book.”

  “Then go and play on your own,” he snapped impatiently. “Malie and I have something to discuss with your mama.”

  With dignity, showing they didn’t care, Jozsef and Leo stalked off into the trees.

  “We won’t go back,” cried Jozsef vengefully. “Then they’ll be sorry.” They played in a desultory fashion for half an hour, then circled back to the clearing. Karoly was still talking. He was angry about something and Mama had her hand raised to her forehead.

  “Surely I can ask, Madame Ferenc! Surely I can call on him and explain my situation. It is not unreasonable merely to be allowed to see him!”

  Mama shook her head. She looked so distressed that the boys began to move closer. Usually when grown-ups were talking and did not wish to be overheard they either ceased their conversation or told the children to run away. But this time no one noticed they were there.

  “I know there are difficulties. I do not even want to ask for a public engagement until some of the difficulties have been overcome—at least until I get my promotion. All I want is the chance to speak with him.”

  “No, no!” Mama cried. “You don’t understand, Karoly. How could I explain to him? It is such a short time! He will blame me, yes he will! He will want to know how all this could have happened in such a short time.” She kept clasping and unclasping her hands and gazing first at Karoly, then at Amalia. Karoly was pacing irritably up and down. He passed right by Leo and Jozsef without even noticing them.

  “It is ridiculous! Forgive me, Madame Ferenc; surely you are seeing problems when none exist. I am a cousin of your brother-in-law. I am here for the summer. We have been formally introduced. Our two families have met together in both houses. What could be more easily explained? I have met Amalia and I love her. I want to talk to her father, that is all, just talk to him.”

  “Oh, you don’t understand, you don’t understand!” cried Mama, wringing her hands. “There’s Gizi and Alfred and Kati. I’m sure they don’t always know you ride up here to join us. I don’t ask you what you’ve told them because—because—” She faltered, then added feebly, “Because I don’t want to know. It was all so... so pleasant: the summer, and you and Malie.... I didn’t think. I just didn’t think.”

  “But what is there to think?” he cried angrily. “We have met, and I have fallen in love with your daughter. What is so wrong with me that that brings disgrace upon you all?”

  Mama began to weep. “I cannot tell you. I cannot tell you what is wrong. Nothing is wrong, but he will be so angry with me. He will ask Gizi how many times you have met, and Gizi will remember exactly, and she will tell him that you and Malie hardly know each other, and then he will say how could the young man want to marry her if they have met so infrequently, and—” Her words drowned in a sea of helpless incoherence.

  Karoly was silent. They could see how tense his shoulders were, but finally he put his hand on Mama’s and said quietly, “Please do not cry, Madame Ferenc. I am sorry. Forgive me for shouting at you. I do not—cannot—understand. I am helpless before you. I have so many difficulties to overcome. There is the army marriage fee and my family and my future with the regiment. These things are tangible to me and I can overcome them in time. I can also see that your husband might not like me at all, might refuse to consider a long engagement with Amalia. But I cannot see why I must not even approach him. Why I cannot even speak to him!”

  Amalia, for the first time that summer unsmiling, said, “Couldn’t he call, Mama? Do you think Papa would be cross? Surely Karoly—he is Uncle Alfred’s cousin—surely Papa would listen to him, talk to him.”

  “Oh, Malie!” Mama’s eyes were closed, not languidly, the way they were when she had a headache, but screwed up tightly as though she were in pain. “Malie, dear. You know what he would say, what questions he would ask. He would never forgive me for letting it come to this before he has even met the young man. Before he is even aware of his existence!” Amalia stared into the trees. “No,” she said simply. “No. Of course it wouldn’t do.”

  “If only he knew you,” said Mama desperately. “If you had visited our house in town when he was there—not alone, of course, but with other young people. If he had grown used to you slowly, seen you with Gizi and Alfred, then he would not be so... so surprised.”

  Malie turned to him and clasped his hand. “Couldn’t we do that, Karoly? When Papa comes, couldn’t we make sure that you call often, with Kati and the Kaldy boys. Pretend that we know each other slightly, then get him to know. That way it would be all right.”

  Karoly stared incredulously at the pair of them. “I just don’t understand. Play games? Stand by your side talking about the weather? How long do I have—I am only here for a few weeks. Then I must return to the garrison while you remain here until the autumn. Do I have to continue through the winter, drinking coffee and pretending that we hardly know one another?”

  “Oh, Karoly, if only you would! It would make everything so much easier. When you meet Papa you will understand.”

  Mama’s face grew less agitated. “Of course, that is what you must do,” she cried. “You can still be together this summer—a little—but you must come with Kati and the Kaldy boys. And you must be very charming to Gizi. You must talk to her about her brother, about Zsigmond; she will like that. Then you may mention Amalia a little, but not too much. She is jealous of my girls—how dreadful it would have been if it had been Eva you wanted! You must mention Amalia very gently, in connection with her papa and his cleverness and the land he has bought and the property he owns. If you talk this way to Gizi then she will tell my husband what a very good and sensible young man you are. He listens to Gizi. He will take notice of anything she says. And after you have called for a while and when he h
as grown used to you, then you can talk to him.”

  “I cannot do this!” he burst out. “I’m a soldier! I do not want to lie and cheat and flatter. I have behaved as a gentleman, why can I not speak to him as a gentleman?”

  Malie clasped his hand hard in hers. “Please, Karoly! Do it this way. It is the only way, I promise you. If you speak to him now it will make such trouble, not just for me but for Mama also.”

  “Please!” breathed Mama, echoing Malie.

  Leo and Jozsef felt they could bear it no more. “Please!” they cried, running forward and tugging at his coat. “Please do what Malie says. Please don’t make Papa angry!”

  He stood, a perplexed and hunted expression on his face, and then he shrugged and began to laugh.

  “Oh, dear, oh, dear!” he cried. “What can I do against the determined weight of the entire family? I must give in, I suppose. No”—he raised his hand in a guarded gesture—“I do not promise to do all you have asked, but I will see Malie in the presence of my cousins more often, and I will call at your home frequently, and I will wait until I have met Zsigmond Ferenc before I decide what to do next.”

  There was almost a party atmosphere. Mama kissed him on the cheek and Malie smiled, her eyes full of unshed tears. Leo and Jozsef swung on his hands, trying to wind his arms round him like streamers. Eva, returning with her book, was told what was going to happen and said, “Won’t it be enormous fun! Like playing in amateur theatricals at school!”

  They still went to the Meadow after that, but not so often, and always Aunt Gizi and Cousin Kati were with them. Eva only came when the Kaldy boys were there and those afternoons were very strained and unhappy because Aunt Gizi was not only cross and sharp with Eva, she was angry with Kati as well.