Skylark - Dezso Kosztolanyi [43]
Ákos reread the long letter in which his daughter gave a detailed account of all that had happened so far.
Thus:
Tarkő Plain 4 September 1899
Monday evening, half past six o'clock
My dear, sweet parents,
Forgive me for not having written to you earlier, but I have until this moment been so very busy with all the many joys of life in the plains, and my hospitable relations have provided so very much for my entertainment, that it is only now I have been able to find time for correspondence.
I have been searching for a pen for days.
Yesterday I found the only one in the house on Uncle Béla's desk, but even this was rusty and the inkwell had, in the great heat, run completely dry. Cousin Berci at last placed this pencil at my disposal. Thus I am forced to write in pencil. For this too I beg your forgiveness.
I shall begin at the beginning.
The journey was most agreeable. As the train departed and you, my dear parents, disappeared before my eyes, I entered my compartment in which my two polite travelling companions already sat, a young man and an aged Roman Catholic priest. I was at once absorbed by the passing landscape, the pleasing variety and fresh colours of which claimed my full attention. I observed the beauties of nature, which only began to unfold in all their true splendour beyond the boundaries of our town, addressing my very spirit with peaceful, consoling words. With nature I conversed for the entire duration of my journey.
I reflected on the past, my thoughts devoted, above all, to you. Time flew by and I arrived punctually. They awaited me with a carriage. In the evening I enjoyed an appetising supper and convivial conversation in the circle of my relations.
I received a hearty welcome from all–Uncle Béla, Aunt Etelka and Cousin Berci.
Only Tiger seemed to take no pleasure in my arrival.
This good and faithful dog did not recognise me and went on barking, snarling and growling for some time. I didn't even dare venture outside alone for several days. Then this morning on the veranda, I finally succeeded in placating her. I dipped my plain-cake in the milk and gave it to her. Now we are the best of friends.
It is seven years since my last visit, in which time much has changed. Can you imagine, there is now a garden on the hill, with tropical plants and rhododendrons? There is also a winding path leading down to the brook, from which they have cleared away all the bulrushes and on which one may even row a boat. Only in spring, of course, for now it is quite dry. In a word, the place is quite divine.
Berci, whom I had not seen since he visited us in Sárszeg when he was eleven, has just matriculated from a private establishment in Budapest. He passed his examinations, with some difficulty I am told, and will now study at the School of Agriculture in Magyaróvár.
I find Uncle Béla a little changed. His hair is hoary at the temples, and I had somehow expected him to look different. It was hard to get used to him at first and I kept looking at him with a smile. He would look back at me, also with a smile. “Have I grown old?” he asked. “No,” I replied, “not in the least.” At this everyone began to laugh, including Uncle Béla.
Aunt Etelka scolds him continually for his smoking, but it seems as if she'll never persuade him to give the habit up. But he doesn't eat supper any more, and only has a cup of milk in the evening, without sugar, and a slice of aleuron-bread, which he always offers me, in fun of course.
I'm still his little favourite. He sits me down next to him, kisses and cuddles me and says what he always used to say to me when I was a little girl, “Never fear, Skylark dear, good old Uncle Béla's here.” At this we both giggle.
All through supper they ask me to talk about you. They were most amused by how worried you were about me. “A bad penny...” said Uncle Béla, with that sweet humour of his.
We chatted until almost midnight, when they showed me to the spare room. I soon fell asleep in the nice, soft bed.
I awoke at dawn