They Were Divided - Miklos Banffy [156]
And in fact she did smile, a smile irradiated with happiness and triumph … for she was thinking that all these dear people had gathered there not only for her but also to greet that beloved husband who somehow had come home at last and who was now walking at her side, and holding her hand, as he had done so long ago when they were both young.
The procession went on its way until it reached the bank of the millstream. There Balint took the box of sugar from old Peter and, alone with his mother and the nurse, and of course Gergely Szakacs pushing the chair, they made their way along the path that led across the great meadow. The others all stayed behind at the end of the oak avenue, while Simon Jäger and the stable-lads ran off towards the bridge over the river.
‘Where are they going?’ asked Countess Roza, smiling up at Balint.
‘They’re going to drive the mares over here.’
‘Good! That’s good!’ the old lady agreed happily.
As they waited she looked to the right, towards a stand of tall poplars whose silver buds were just beginning to unfold, and to the undergrowth beneath them where the hawthorn bushes were covered with creamy white flowers. Then she turned her head to the left to look along the lines of lime-trees and wide-spreading horse-chestnuts whose great trunks were outlined by the morning sun. From where they stood the view extended into the far distance, which was why the meadow was known as the Meadow of the Great View – and now Countess Roza, her slightly protruding eyes opened wide, gazed over the vast extent of her domains before again looking up at her son, and saying, as she squeezed his fingers in hers, ‘You see how beautiful, how beautiful it all is … how beautiful!’
Balint could not reply. His eyes were full of tears and all he could do was to give her hand an answering squeeze.
Far in the distance the mares could now be seen coming towards them, galloping because the stable-lads were cracking their whips behind them and this was something to which they were not accustomed. On they came, at a fast gallop, and only stopped about fifty paces away from the little group. There they stood, heads lifted high, with ears cocked as if asking who these people were who had strayed onto their meadow and wondering what was this strange little carriage they had never seen before. For a moment they stood in amazement, almost motionless, with nostrils distended … but only for a moment, for suddenly one of the older mares came forward and advanced towards Countess Roza. Then came another, and another, and then, again another, until it was clear that they had all recognized their beloved mistress and were hurrying to her side.
In a few moments her wheelchair was surrounded. So close they came that their soft muzzles searched her face and rested on her shoulder, asking for the familiar lump of sugar. Balint and Szakacs had a hard time keeping them in order, but Countess Abady was laughing happily, ‘See? This is Csujtar … and Menyet … and here is Borostyan…’ and with her left hand she gave them lump after lump of sugar. She gave and gave and gave; until at last her arm tired and fell into her lap. Then she closed her eyes and leaned back in the cushions murmuring, ‘I’m so happy, so happy!’
She said it so softly that it was barely more than a breath. She did not move. Her head was inclined towards her shoulder.
‘She’s tired,’ said the nurse. ‘We should wait a little.’
Balint, helped by Gergely Szakacs, succeeded in driving the mares a little further away. Then they returned to his mother.
She was still in the same