Journey by Moonlight

“Why? Because he wants me to go back to him. He wants to show me just what sort of lad you are. He doesn’t take into account that I know it anyway, have known it a lot longer than he has, and that I also know what baseness lies behind his goodness and his gentle devotedness. Now if it were simply a question of getting me back, then the whole business has had the opposite result to what he wanted, and that wouldn’t have been so clever. But it’s not just about that.”

“Go on.”

“Listen to this.” Erzsi’s facial expression changed from exasperation to horror. “Zoltán wants to destroy you, Mihály. He wants to wipe you off the face of the earth.”

“Really. But he isn’t big enough for that yet. How do you think he’d try?”

“Look Mihály, I don’t know exactly, because I’m not as cunning as Zoltán. I’m only guessing. First of all, I’d do everything I could to make your position in your family impossible. Which, at least for the time being, won’t be difficult, because you can imagine what sort of face your father will make, or has already made, seeing this letter.”

“My father? But you don’t think he’d show it to him?”

“I’m quite sure of it.”

Now he was horrified. A shivering, adolescent dread filled him, dread of his father, the old, old terror of losing his father’s goodwill. He put down the glass of aranciata and buried his head in his hands. Erzsi understood his motives, he knew that. But he could never explain them to his father. He had lost credit with his father, once and for all.

“And after that he’ll get to work in Pest,” Erzsi continued. “He’ll make up such a story about you, you won’t be able to walk down the street. Because, my God, I know that the crime you wanted to commit is not so very unusual. There are hordes of people running around Pest who in one way or another have sold their wives and continue to enjoy general respect, especially if they’re in the money and God’s blessing goes with their businesses — but Zoltán will make quite sure that the weekly press, and other leaders of public opinion, will see it in a way that will mean you won’t be able to walk down the street. You’ll have to live abroad, which won’t worry you very much, except that your family will barely be able to support you, or in fact not at all, since Zoltán will certainly do his utmost to destroy your father’s business.”

“Erzsi!”

“Oh yes. For example he’ll find a way of forcing me to take my money out of the firm. When news of that gets out — and I will have to do it, your father himself will insist — that in itself will be a terrible blow to your people.”

For a long time they sat in silence.

“I’d just like to know,” Mihály said at last, “why he hates me so much. Because he used to be so understanding and forgiving it really wasn’t natural.”

“That’s exactly why he hates you so much now. You really can’t imagine how much resentment was stored up behind his goodness even then, what frantic loathing there was precisely in that forgivingness. No doubt he himself believed he had forgiven you, until the opportunity for revenge presented itself. And then like some wild animal reared on milk, suddenly given its first taste of meat … ”

“I always thought of him as such a soft, slimy creature.”

“Me too. And, I have to confess, now that he’s assumed such Shylockian proportions, he impresses me much more favourably. A decent chap, after all … ”

There was another long silence.

“Tell me,” began Mihály, “presumably you’ve some plan, something I, or we, must do, that brought you to Rome.”

“In the first place, I want to warn you. Zoltán believes that you’ll walk as unsuspecting into his other traps as you have into this. For example, he wants to offer you a wonderful job, so that you’ll go back to Pest. So that you’ll be right on the spot when the scandal breaks. But you mustn’t go back, at any price. And then I want to warn you about a … friend of yours. You know who.”

“János Szepetneki?”

“Yes.”

“How did you meet him in Paris?”

“In company.”

“Were you with him often?”

“Yes, often enough. Zoltán also got to know him through me.”

“And how did you find János? He’s really unusual, don’t you think?”

“Yes, really unusual.”

But she said this with so much apparent deliberation that suspicion flashed through Mihály’s mind. Was it really? … How strange it would be … But his considerable discretion instantly rebelled and he suppressed his curiosity. If it were at all like that, then he should say nothing more about János Szepetneki.

“Thank you, Erzsi, for the warning. You’re very good to me, and I know how little I deserve it. And I can’t believe that in time you too will come to hate me as bitterly as Zoltán Pataki does.”

“I would think not,” said Erzsi, very solemnly. “I don’t feel any desire for revenge against you. There’s no reason why I should, really.”

“I see there’s still something you want to say. Is there something else I should do?”