Skylark - Dezso Kosztolanyi [70]
With that, he took up his hat, withdrew with a sickly smile, and followed the other Panthers, who, with Környey at the fore, were already making their way out of the station. And now, after so many noble adventures and entertainments–or, as Szunyogh put it, post tot discrimina rerum–the Panthers finally headed home to bed.
XII
in which the author describes the joys of arrival and reunion
ÁKOS WAS once again left alone with his wife.
His disquiet had reached the point where the anxiety born of self-reproach subsides, and speculation is replaced by a dumb stupor which can only mumble broken, meaningless words. He no longer thought of anything, no longer imagined what had happened and what still might happen. He only breathed the odd sigh to keep his fears alive.
“If only she were here!'
“She'll be here soon.”
“If only the Good Lord will help us one more time.”
“He will. He will.”
Mother, who was no less anxious, smiled reassuringly at her husband and gave him a hand to squeeze. Both their hands were ice cold. Everything seemed so hopeless.
In an attempt to outwit their fears, they busied themselves with trivial questions and disputes. Where had they put the pantry key, had they locked the study door?
Then the signal bell rang.
They shuddered at the sound. They stood alone on the platform, for after the departure of the Panthers the station had completely cleared. The waiters had taken up the tablecloths.
Behind them, chugging along at a leisurely pace on the outer track, a long mixed freight and passenger train pulled in, with endless wagonloads of canvas-covered boxes, petrol drums and livestock. They heard a dull, repeated whistle in the darkness from where the passengers soon began to emerge from the third-class carriages; simple folk, peasants with bundles, market women with fruit baskets balanced on their heads, rummaging awkwardly in their bosoms for their tickets by the exit gate.
Géza Gifra informed the couple that this was still not the Tarkő train, which was, however, only one station down the line, and would be in any minute now.
He was right.
Just when they least expected it, the little coffee grinder appeared on the horizon, the same engine they had seen off one week before.
Like a pair of bloodshot eyes, its two red lamps strained at the track through the darkness. It approached with caution, feeling its way, so as not to step on anyone's feet. The engine grew larger by the minute. It had been washed a bright black by the rain, and kept coughing and sneezing as if it had caught cold. The brakes whined, the carriages moaned. It was hardly the most uplifting of sights.
Jolting over the points, it seemed to hobble along until suddenly, quite unexpectedly, it veered to the right and swung towards them on the inner track. It seemed unwilling to come to a halt and dragged its load towards the engine house until the very last carriage finally came to a standstill before their noses.
The Vajkays rushed towards the carriage.
Ákos couldn't see too clearly and automatically reached for his pocket, only to remember that his spectacles had gone missing the night before and he'd have to buy a new pair.
Only one arc lamp now burned above them, rendering the darkness still more uncertain.
In addition to this, there was an almighty din. The quarrelsome cries of passengers calling for porters became entangled with the twilight.
The eyes and ears of the elderly couple were equally confused. Unable to focus their flagging attention on the dizzying scene, they locked their gazes on to the one carriage that stood immediately before them. From this a horse dealer alighted, followed by a tall woman with her husband, whom they didn't recognise. After them came two elderly gentlemen and finally a young couple, carrying their little son together in their arms as he slept sweetly in a cheap, straw hat with green tassels. The carriage was now completely empty.
There was no longer any movement at the front end of the train either. Most of the passengers were already handing their tickets to the inspector at