They Were Divided - Miklos Banffy [173]
It was pouring with rain when Balint’s little party arrived. Everywhere was water and mud and their only consolation was that most of the snow had already disappeared from the mountains.
They walked the boundaries of the forest and checked that they were properly marked; and in the afternoon they sat down in the judge’s house and saw that the contract was properly drawn-up. At the same time they drew up a schedule of when the timber should be sold and what its price should be. Then they estimated how much would be left, when the land price had been paid and the cost of the labour settled, to form the society’s capital. This last had been Abady’s express wish and would be his gift.
When all these things had been settled and there only remained some minor details and the preparation of fine copies of the agreements – work which would take an hour at most and which could best be done by Winkler and Ganyi – Balint realized that he had time to call on Farkas Alvinczy, whom he had not seen for a long time.
Since old Count Adam Alvinczy had died and his sons divided up their diminished inheritance, Farkas had hardly stirred from Magyarokerek.
Balint had last seen him at Kis-Kukullo when he had found himself dragged in to attend Pityu’s party to celebrate the trial and execution of Brandy. Even there Farkas’s presence had been exceptional; and since then he had not stirred from home.
Balint had to climb a steep path to reach the Alvinczy manor house. It was perhaps just as well that it was already evening and that night was falling, for the state of dilapidation of the handsome old house was not as obvious as it would have been by day. As it was one hardly noticed that the plaster was falling away in great patches and that one corner of the house was crumbling.
There were no servants to be seen but a light shone from one of the ground-floor windows. Balint stepped up onto the columned portico and opened the door.
Inside he saw Farkas Alvinczy, sitting at a large dining table on which was spread a huge map lit by a single lamp. Farkas was leaning over the table and was apparently so deep in a book that lay beside the map that he did not notice Abady until he was standing in front of him.
‘Why, Balint!’ he cried. ‘Whatever are you doing here?’
It was obvious that he was delighted to see his visitor, though his greeting was elegantly moderate and free of effusiveness. Balint was at once offered some refreshment, and it was no home-brewed beverage, but a choice of the best liqueurs.
‘What would you prefer?’ asked Farkas. ‘Would you like Benedictine, Cointreau, Chartreuse, Maraschino di Zara? Or something else? I think I’ve got everything.’
Indeed all these elegant bottles stood nearby in a row on the sideboard.
‘You know it’s the only thing I spend money on now. Since I gave up the great world – and the high life of the capital – I just don’t have the means any more. This is my only indulgence. For a man like myself … used to only the best … well …’
They touched glasses and sat down at the table. Balint explained what brought him up to the forests and then they talked of some of their mutual friends, of economics and the prospects for the next harvest. These subjects were soon exhausted, for it was obvious to Balint that none of this really interested his friend any more for Farkas treated it all with haughty contempt. With a dismissive wave of his hand and a mocking smile he said, ‘None of this is very important; just little things for little people!’
After more somewhat desultory talk between them Farkas finally spoke of the map that covered the table