They Were Divided - Miklos Banffy [55]
The idea was sensible and the prince’s motives commendably lofty.
Gaston d’Orléans himself was an eminent and distinguished personage whose wife would have become Empress of Brazil if her father, Pedro II, had not been overthrown by the ungrateful Brazilians. He was received everywhere with the courtesy and ceremony to which his rank entitled him; and wherever he went a branch of his anti-duelling league was founded at once with its full complement of president, general secretary, statutes and plans for regular meetings. It was of course most flattering to be able to refer to this royal prince, the grandson of King Louis-Philippe no less, as one’s colleague and chief, and it was nice to be known to share the opinions of such an eminent person. The Comte d’Eu lived in Paris and no doubt, if under his wing, one would soon find oneself received in the most select houses in the Faubourg St Germain.
In Budapest the League was headed by some impressive names and, through the Countess Beredy’s influence, her brother, Fredi Wuelffenstein, was made the general secretary. From Hungary the prince was going on to Bucharest and so it was arranged that he should stop on the way at Kolozsvar so as to found the Transylvanian branch of the Anti-Duelling League.
There too he was received with honour and on the evening of his arrival a ‘brilliant reception’ (as the newspapers called it) was given for him at the Casino. It was followed by a banquet. Everyone with any pretensions to social prominence in Transylvania took care to be there.
An enormous U-shaped table had been set up in the hall. In the centre of the top table sat the prince flanked on one side by Sandor Kendy (Crookface) wearing the Cross of St Istvan, and on the other by Stanislo Gyeroffy (Carrots) who, when he had briefly been a member of Szapary’s cabinet, had managed to be awarded the Grand Cross of Alexander for having participated in the negotiations which had led to the signing of a trading agreement with Bulgaria. In addition to the cross itself Gyeroffy was swathed in the wide red, green and white ribbon of the order. By right of these impressive decorations, which entitled their possessors to be addressed as ‘Excellency’, Crookface and old Gyeroffy had the places of honour on each side of the royal guest and they, in turn, were flanked by all the other local notabilities placed according to the strictest rules of precedence. Among them were the Prefect and his immediate predecessor, the Sheriff, the Mayor, the Rector of the University and various prominent churchmen, as well as most of the provincial titled folk. They made a fine display and as background to the top table had been hung a magnificent Gobelins tapestry.
Facing the guest of honour were the other Sandor Kendy (known as ‘Wiggles’), the elder Adam Alvinczy and Major Bogacsy, now retired from the army and acting as chairman of the orphans’ Court of Chancery. These were the official hosts.
Now that Bogacsy was no longer a serving officer he was dressed in civilian evening dress and the only thing left to remind one of his belligerent past was an enormous pair of moustaches which resembled nothing so much as a large black pudding suspended over his mouth. He wore the insignia of the Order of Maria-Theresia, which had been awarded him for some deed of bravery in the Bosnian war though what that had been no one knew, for he never alluded to it himself. When Bogacsy did talk about his past he only referred to his prowess at innumerable duels where he had always been much in demand as a second.
Bogacsy was very angry. No one had told him why Transylvania was being honoured by the visit of this foreign prince and until he had arrived in the hall all he knew was the name of the guest in whose honour the