Journey by Moonlight

Then he found himself standing outside the house where Vannina lived. The house was dark, a small Italian house with a flat, tiled roof and window-arches faced with brick. Who might be living there? What deeds might lurk in the darkness of such a house? What horrors might befall him if he went in? Would Vannina … yes, Vannina had surely had a purpose in inviting him there so often and so insistently in recent days. She could well have known he had had a lot of money from János. All her prospective husbands had been locked up … yes, Vannina would be quite capable … And when he knew that for certain, he would go in.

He stood for a long time outside the house, plunged in sick imaginings. Then suddenly a leaden weariness seized him, and again he felt the nostalgia that had haunted him at every stage of his journey through Italy. But his weariness told him that now he was near the last resting place of all.

XXI

THE NEXT DAY he received a letter. The handwriting was familiar, very familiar, though he found, with some sense of shame, that he couldn’t quite place it. It was from Erzsi. She informed him that she had come to Rome because she wished absolutely to talk to him, on a matter of great importance, great importance concerning him. He would be able to appreciate that this was not a question of some womanly caprice. Her self-respect would not permit her to seek a connection with him if she did not wish to defend his interests with respect to an extremely painful matter; but she considered she owed him that much. Therefore she strongly desired him to call on her, at her hotel, that afternoon.

Mihály was at a loss what to do. The thought of a meeting with Erzsi filled him with dread. His sense of guilt was particularly bad at that moment, and besides he could not imagine what she might want from him. But this soon gave way to the feeling that he had hurt Erzsi so much in the past he could not hurt her yet again by not meeting with her. He took his new hat, bought out of the money received from Pataki, and hurried off to the hotel where she was staying.

Word was sent up to her, and she soon came down to greet Mihály unsmilingly. His first impression was that he could expect little good from this meeting. Her brows were knitted into the frown she wore when she was angry, and she did not relax it. She was beautiful, tall, in every matter of taste elegant, but an angel with a flaming sword … After a few terse inquiries about the journey and one another’s health, they walked together in silence.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“It’s all the same to me. It’s so hot. Let’s sit in a pâtisserie.”

The ice-cream and aranciata brought momentary relief. But they soon got to the point.

“Mihály,” she said with suppressed anger, “I always knew you were pretty useless, and had no idea about anything going on around you, but I had thought there was a limit to your stupidity.”

“That’s a good start,” said Mihály. But he was secretly rather pleased that she considered him a fool and not a villain.

She was surely right.

“How could you have written this?” she asked, and placed on the table the letter he had written to Pataki at Szepetneki’s behest.

Mihály reddened, and in his shame felt such weariness he could not speak.

“Say something!” shouted Erzsi, the angel with the flaming sword.

“What should I say, Erzsi?” he said in a desultory tone. “You’re an intelligent person, you know why I wrote it. I needed the money. I don’t want to go back to Pest, for a thousand reasons. … And this was the only way I could raise money.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t explain such incredible immorality. What an incredible pimp I am. Anyway, I know it. If the only reason you came to Rome, in this heat, was to tell me that … ”

“The devil you’re a pimp,” she said in extreme exasperation. “If only you were! But you’re just an idiot.”

She fell silent. “Really,” she thought, “I shouldn’t take that tone with him, seeing I’m no longer his wife … ”

After a while he asked: “Tell me, Erzsi, how did that letter come your way?”

“What do you mean? So, you still haven’t worked the whole thing out? They conned you, János Szepetneki and that disgusting Zoltán. All he wanted was to show me your total lack of principle, in writing. He sent the letter on to me immediately, but first he made a photo-copy, duly notarised, which he kept.”

“Zoltán? Zoltán does that sort of thing? Duly notarised? Such incredibly dark doings as that, something that would never even enter my mind, such fantastic shabbiness? … I don’t understand it.”

“Well of course you don’t understand,” she said, more gently. “You’re not a pimp, just a fool. And Zoltán, unfortunately, is well aware of the fact.”

“But he wrote me such a kind letter … ”

“Oh yes, Zoltán is kind, but he’s clever. You’re not kind, but you are a fool.”

“But then why is he doing all this?”