Journey by Moonlight by Antal Szerb Read Free Book Online

himself, and for a while he became the dominant influence in the group. We deferred to him in everything. János and I strove to outdo each other in pious deeds. Every day we searched out new poor unfortunates in need of assistance, and even newer immortally great Catholic authors requiring to be rescued by us from undeserved obscurity. St Thomas and Jacques Maritain, Chesterton and St Anselm of Canterbury buzzed in our conversation like flies. We went to mass, and János of course had visions. Once St Dominic appeared at the window before dawn, with the gesture of the raised finger, and pronounced: ‘We watch over you individually and completely.’ I guess János and I in this pose must have been irresistibly comic. Tamás and Éva took little part in this Catholicism of ours.
    “This period lasted for perhaps a year. Then things began to disintegrate . I couldn’t say exactly what began the process, but somehow common reality began to flow back. And with it, it brought decay. The Ulpius grandfather died. He suffered for weeks. He struggled for air, his throat rattled. Éva nursed him with surprising patience, staying up whole nights at his bedside. I remarked to her later how good it was of her. She smiled absent-mindedly and said how interesting it was to watch someone die.
    “At that point their father decided that things really couldn’t carry on as they were. Something would have to be done about his children. He wanted to marry Éva off as a matter of urgency. He bundled her off to a rich old aunt in the country, who took a large house where she could go to county balls and Lord knows what else. Éva of course returned after a week, with some marvellous stories, and submitted phlegmatically to her father’s chastisement. Tamás did not share his sister’s easy nature. His father put him in an office. It’s horrible to think … even now it brings tears to my eyes when I think how he suffered in that office. He worked in the city hall, with conventional petty-bourgeois types who regardedhim as mentally unsound. They gave him the most stupid, most dully routine work possible, because they reckoned he wouldn’t be able to cope with anything requiring a little thought or initiative. And perhaps they were right. The worst of the many humiliations he received at their hands amounted to this: not that they insulted him, but that they pitied and cosseted him. Tamás never complained to us, just occasionally to Éva. That’s how I know. He just went pale and became very withdrawn whenever the office was mentioned.
    “Then came his second suicide attempt.”
    “The second?”
    “The second. I should have mentioned the first one earlier. That was actually much more serious and horrific. It happened when we were sixteen, just at the start of our friendship. I called there one day as usual and found Éva alone, doing some drawing with rather unusual concentration. She said Tamás had gone up to the attic, and I should wait, he would soon be down. Around that time he often went up to the attic to explore. He turned up countless treasures in the old trunks, which fed his antiquarian fantasies and were used in our plays. In an old house like that the attic is a specially romantic sort of place, so I wasn’t really surprised, and I waited patiently. Éva, as I said, was unusually quiet.
    “Suddenly she turned pale, leapt to her feet, and screamed at me that we should go up to the attic to see what was wrong with Tamás. I had no idea what this was all about, but her fear ran through me. In the attic it was as black as could be. I tell you, it was a vast ancient place, full of nooks and crannies, with the doors of mysterious bureaux open everywhere, and trunks and desks blocking the main passage at intervals. I bumped my head on low-hanging beams. There were unexpected steps to go up and down. But Éva ran through the darkness without hesitation, as if she already knew where he might be. At the far end of the corridor