They Were Divided - Miklos Banffy [52]
Just after the New Year a covered carriage drew up outside Laszlo’s house. It was nine o’clock at night, and Fabian had come to celebrate his Saint’s Day. With him he had brought a huge cold turkey, some savoury biscuits and sweet cakes and a large hamper of brandy and cheap champagne. He also brought two women. The village gypsy musician was sent for at once and he played standing in the kitchen doorway as there was no place for him in Laszlo’s room where the four of them dined and danced and sang. Fabian himself always needed plenty of space, for he loved to jump up and hurl himself about, sometimes dancing with both women at once, throwing himself about with wide-flung arms and all the time yodelling at the top of his voice.
News of the party spread quickly through the village and soon there was a group of neighbours gathered near the house to listen to the music and find out what was going on. They were mostly women, and they cross-questioned the driver about the loose women he had brought and were deliciously scandalized by what he had to tell. Some of the younger boys and girls started dancing on the frozen snow-covered ground; but it was bitterly cold and soon they all went home.
After dinner was over the Bischitz family always sat in the large room behind the shop in which the family lived and ate. Here the shopkeeper kept his account books and also any special delicacies such as sugar and spices and dried figs which might have absorbed the smells of dried fish or pipe tobacco if these had been kept in the store-room next door. On this evening old Bischitz sat reading a newspaper while his fat wife dozed in an armchair, worn-out from the heavy labour of the daily chores. Regina had already put her younger brothers and sisters to bed and was folding away the tablecloth and napkins when their servant Juliska rushed in and disturbed this peaceful domestic scene with the scandalous news of what was happening over at The Count’s house. Neither of the old people were in the least impressed, and indeed the shopkeeper himself, angered at the thought that the drinks had not been bought from him, bawled out the servant for having left the washing-up to go sight-seeing, promised her a good slap, chased her back to the kitchen and then turned to his wife and said: ‘Come on, bedtime!’
Regina stood by the cupboard rigid with shock. She was very pale and her parents had to call her twice before she heard them.
Regina lay quite still next to her sleeping six-year-old sister, but she could not sleep. One o’clock went by, and two o’clock, and still she lay there, her ears straining for the faint sound of the violin music. At length that stopped and for a long time she could hear nothing, not even the sound of her parents’ breathing.
What was happening over there? What could be happening?
At length Regina could stand it no more. She slipped out of bed, very carefully so as not to wake her sister, felt for her clothes and somehow managed to get into them in the dark. Then she felt for her mother’s shawl which was always hung on a hook behind the door, wrapped it round her and stole to the front door.
It was a dark