They Were Divided by Miklós Bánffy Read Free Book Online Page A

before she was fully awake.
    There was no need for Balint to say anything because Margit saw from his face that all was well and at once said, ‘I’ll be going home now,’ and her little mouth stretched wide as she yawned deeply. Then she slipped into her evening fur coat and with hardly another word bade Abady farewell and disappeared. HowAbady was to leave the house if she locked the gate behind her and took away the key, she didn’t say, though whether this was because she was still so sleepy or whether she may have other reasons no one could have told, for little Margit never explained and never said anything that was not strictly necessary.
    Balint turned off the bathroom light and returned to the dark bedroom.

    The clock in the neighbouring monastery struck three. Its sound reverberated in the darkness almost as if it chimed in the room itself.
    The sound woke them. They had fallen asleep entwined in each others’ arms, the curves of their bodies fitting closely together with the ease of long-standing habit, just as a pair of great cats such as pumas or panthers sleep coiled together in luxurious repose. Adrienne had found her accustomed place with her head tucked into Balint’s shoulder and her strong richly curling hair partly covering his lips and nose; but he slept all the deeper for, far from disturbing him, these wild locks of hers were like links in a magic chain that had bound them together for so many years. These lovers needed no one else, for both found everything that was needed in the other, every gesture and movement of their lovemaking, whether new or familiar, was accepted with trust and serenity, even their unity in the climax of love; and on this day it was just as it had always been whenever they had been able to come together to lose their own selves in each other.
    ‘It’s already three, I ought to get dressed,’ he murmured into the thick tangle of her curls.
    ‘Are you cold?’ she asked, but she did not move.
    ‘No! But I can’t stay for ever … and I really must put on the light.’
    ‘If you must; but promise me not to look around! Promise!’
    ‘I promise.’
    Balint switched on one of the little bedside lamps and Adrienne picked out one of her wraps for him.
    Although Balint had meant to keep his promise, as soon as he started to put on Adrienne’s silken kimono he could not help seeing that the little Browning revolver was lying on the table beside the bed and that on the floor nearby were a number of tiny unused cartridges, little copper bullets and the yellow cardboard box from which they had come. He realized that she must have tried to load the revolver but that she had dropped the box in heragitation and that it must have been only this chance that had saved her life. Adrienne noticed that his face had clouded over and took his head in her hands, turned it back towards her and started kissing his eyes with her wide generous mouth. She did not let go but pulled him down again as if he were her prisoner among the soft pillows and cushions on the bed. Later, when they could again look each other straight in the eyes, her expression was gently apologetic and there was something shamefaced in the little smile with which she looked up at him. They did not speak about what they both knew he had seen there.
    They talked about all sorts of things and then, prosaically enough, about the fact that they were both hungry.
    ‘And there’s nothing in the house because we were all going to eat at Margit’s. This is awful,’ Adrienne wailed in mock dismay.
    Then Balint remembered the chestnuts which, though he had hardly known what he was doing, he had bought on that long lonely bitter walk the evening before. Finding his coat among the clothes he had strewn on the floor by Adrienne’s bed, he searched in the pockets and found them and also the paper he had bought a little later.
    ‘I’ve got this bag of chestnuts, but they’re stone cold. Perhaps we could warm them