everything, time, place and occasion, and was conscious only of the music he created. He stood very tall and straight, his hat tilted on the back of his head. His eyes were shut even when, as now, he turned to the musicians and started a new song – ‘They put new tiles on the soldiers ’ barracks …’
Dodo could not take her eyes off him.
In the middle of the song everyone round the table suddenly jumped up. Uncle Ambrus shouted something, the music stopped, and everybody, even the passers-by on the other side of the road, stared up at the window where Dodo had placed her candle just inside the outer glass and in front of the fine linen curtains . The material had caught alight and long flames were curling up to the eaves. Smoke was already filling the room. There was a sharp crack as one of the window-panes split in two and fragments of glass fell tinkling to the street below.
Dodo swiftly pulled the bell-cord and then, regardless of herself , grabbed both sides of the burning curtains and tore them down. Then she ran to the washstand and seized the water jug.
By the time the frightened maidservant rushed into the room, Dodo was already pouring water over the smoking remains of the curtains on the floor and in her light slippers was stamping out the little flames that still occasionally burst forth.
It was lucky that she had acted so swiftly for if the fire had reached the voluminous lace curtains that hung inside the room it might have been much more serious. As it was the only signs of the near-disaster were some black marks on the parquet floor. That was all; and the soles of her slippers were almost burned through. There was no other material damage.
While her maid, and two others who had run to help, were swabbing up the water from the floor and removing the charred remains of the curtains, Dodo took another look at what was happening outside.
Only the two policemen were still there and she called down to them that the damage was only slight and that they could go home. For a while she stood silently by the broken window.
Now Dodo felt sad and heavy-hearted, feeling it to be an evil omen that, just when she was feeling so happy, the serenade should end in disaster. Then she shook her head vigorously as if thereby to dispel such foolish thoughts and turned back to the room.
You silly! she said to herself. There are no such things as evil omens. Sheer foolishness!
And she jumped back into bed, noticing only now how cold the room had suddenly become.
Chapter Three
I T WAS COUNTESS Roza Abady’s birthday, a day she liked to celebrate and when nothing pleased her more than for a succession of callers to visit her little palais in Farkas Street.
Only one thing was forbidden – nobody was supposed to mention which birthday it was.
No one ever did, of course, although they all knew that she had been born on April 12th, 1854. One there was who was bold enough to break the rule, and he had lately taken to annoying the countess by sending her a card on which he wrote ‘My congratulation s to the Gracious Countess on her fiftieth birthday’ (or whichever it happened to be).
This bold fellow was Boldizsar Kozma, the son of her father’s former estate manager.
The elder Kozma had five sons; Dezso and Aron were the oldest , Geza and Jeno came last and the middle son, Boldizsar, was the same age as Countess Roza. When she was a little girl all five boys had been her playmates until they left Denestornya when old Kozma decided to set up on his own as a farmer, left Count Abady’s service, and rented a substantial property near Teke. Since then the Kozma family had prospered and become rich. They had bought up estate after estate until today they were the owners of the entire districts of Ormenyes and Teke in the Kolozs county. These they had acquired from the former landowners who could not compete with five such hard-working, knowledgeable and unpretentious young farmers.
Countess Roza had not seen