They Were Divided - Miklos Banffy [174]
‘That is where I’m travelling at present! You see? Today my ship arrived here!’
‘Your ship?’
‘Yes, my ship. This is it!’ and he pointed to a steel pen head which had been placed on the blue coloured sea, pointing to Ceylon at the foot of the pink-coloured sub-continent of India. ‘This pen here, that is my ship. Every day I push it forward the distance travelled in the previous twenty-four hours, according to this book. The day before yesterday we left Bombay, and tomorrow we shall arrive at Colombo.’
He told how he had travelled like this for the last two years. He had ordered accounts of voyages and the corresponding maps, and each day he read just as much as was covered by that day – no more, for that would be cheating. Like this it was just as if he were making the voyage himself. If the traveller wrote that he had spent five days at sea with nothing to relate, then Farkas waited five days before reading on or marking the map.
‘But isn’t that rather dull, making yourself wait five days?’
‘Not at all! Time goes by. Sometimes faster than you’d imagine. I think about the sea and about my travelling companions. I dress for dinner in the evenings – you always do on a luxury liner, you know.’
He told Balint he was now a much-travelled man. The previous year he had rounded Cape Horn, visited Terra del Fuego and indeed ‘done’ South America. He had also been to the South Pole and back. It had been beautiful and most interesting even though it had been a shorter trip than he really liked.
‘This one is very good. The weather’s lovely and so far the sea has been quite calm!’
Balint looked hard at Alvinczy wondering if he was making fun of him and was just saying all this for a joke, but it was clear he meant everything he said and took it all very seriously. On Farkas’s classical features, on that still beautiful if now slightly puffy face, there was an expression only of calm honesty. None of the young Alvinczys had ever shown any sign of a sense of humour and now it was obvious that the man was simply telling the truth. Looking at him Balint noticed how well-turned-out and soigné Farkas still was. He was freshly shaved, his hair had been brushed smooth; and he was wearing a well-cut double-breasted dark blue smoking jacket with gold buttons, just what an elegant man of fashion would wear while cruising the world’s oceans.
‘Where is your ship going?’ asked Balint, so as to make him talk on.
‘Tokyo. Then from Tokyo down to the Philippines and on the return trip we shall call at Java and Sumatra. I need another map for that part of the voyage, of course, but I’ve got it here all ready. Would you like to see it?’
He was about to get up to fetch it when Miklos Ganyi appeared at the door seemingly rather agitated.
‘This urgent telegram was brought up from Hunyad by a special messenger. He had to ride up. I’m sure it must be important or Zutor wouldn’t have sent it on after us.’
‘Please excuse me!’ said Balint to Alvinczy as he opened the envelope. It had been sent that day at midday and read:
‘THE FOLLOWING TELEGRAM CAME TODAY FROM SZAMOS KOZARD; THE COUNT IS VERY ILL. PLEASE COME AT ONCE. REGINA’.
Balint jumped up. Laszlo! Laszlo, his Laszlo, was dying and was perhaps already dead. He would have to start for Kozard at once. Balint read out the message to Farkas and for a few moments they discussed the sad news. Then Balint and Ganyi set off.
Alvinczy came with them only as far as the door. He said the proper words of condolence: ‘What a pity – a real shame – he was such an old friend!’ but one could tell that the news had not really meant anything to him. As soon as the others had gone, he turned on his heel and hastened back to his book and his map.
Balint caught the night express to Kolozsvar. There another telegram was waiting for him. It came from Kozard and read:
‘THE NOBLE