They Were Divided - Miklos Banffy [126]
When the meetings were over Kozma shook hands with the other committee members and started to walk back to the castle with Ganyi.
For the first part of their way they were accompanied by old Gergely Szakacs, Roza Abady’s pensioned-off head groom whose house lay in that direction, and by Pelikan, who walked with them out of courtesy to the visitor from Budapest. They went on foot because Countess Abady did not like to have her horses put to on a Sunday unless it was necessary. The weather was beautiful, although it was already mid-November, a real Indian summer, and so no one minded walking despite the distance; and indeed it was quite a walk for the Agricultural Association’s headquarters lay at the far end of the village which consisted of a single very long strung-out street. Most of the houses were lined up on the left of the mill-stream and, on the right, the land rose steeply to the hills. It was a good mile from the meeting place to the church beside the old manor house where Abady was waiting for them. This old mansion, though quite close to the castle itself, had been where Balint’s grandfather, Count Peter, had lived. After the old man had died Countess Roza had allowed her rascally agent, the lawyer Azbej, to take up residence there, but when he had left some years before, Balint, whose work for the Co-operatives had vastly increased, had given over three rooms in the house for the movement’s archives and secretariat.
As the four men walked down the long street they met many of the village folk out walking. The village girls, arm in arm, all dressed in their Sunday finery, separated to make way for them and then joined up again as soon as they had passed, whispering to each other and giggling as country wenches always do.
All the young men were out too, strutting proudly together and occasionally tossing joking remarks in the girls’ direction but not joining them, for that would come later in the afternoon when the dancing started. They lifted their caps respectfully to Kozma and his companions, as did the older men who stood chatting in front of the village hall. Kozma and the others, though deep in conversation, greeted everyone with equal courtesy.
They were discussing the meeting they had just attended and especially the bungled distribution of the recently purchased farmland.
Aron Kozma could not disguise how annoyed he had been, and how dismayed, when he had discovered how stupidly Abady had blundered by getting involved at all. It had been foolhardy, he said, and worse, it had done harm.
Countess Roza’s old groom echoed Kozma’s words.
‘I said right at the beginning what a nonsense it was, but the young master is not one to listen to anyone else’s words, however sensible. He just bangs on and storms his way into trouble, that one does! He’s not cautious enough. It was a big mistake, a very big mistake in my opinion!’
For a little while Aron and old Gergely discussed what they both thought of Balint’s credulity and of how he was so easily carried away by his own enthusiasm. Miklos Ganyi listened nervously until finally he felt impelled to interrupt. Then he spoke up most respectfully but still with determination.
‘You gentlemen must excuse me, but … in my opinion we should look at it differently. There are aspects which should not be forgotten. I don’t think we should judge it quite as you gentlemen have been doing. Of course I admit that this business of the farm got out of hand; and also that Count Balint doesn’t know enough about human nature. Perhaps it’s just as well he doesn’t. It may be for the better that he does let his sympathies run away with him from time to time. Yes, that has its good side too.’
‘In what way?’ inquired Kozma.
‘Just think of it,’ said Ganyi, his bony face suffused with enthusiasm. ‘If Count Balint didn’t always try to help everyone, where would our Co-operative be? It’s only his enthusiasm and drive that gets so many people to work for him.’
He turned his thin brown face