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They Were Divided - Miklos Banffy [61]

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is true that he had marched through some of the museums, not because he was interested by anything he saw there but rather so that he had something to talk about when he returned. And talk he did. Even now he was telling Fredi about his experiences; and this was the origin of their quarrel. When Isti said that he had become a member of the St James’s, Fredi was so jealous that he turned as yellow as if he were suffering from jaundice. From then on if Isti used an English word, Fredi would correct his pronunciation. ‘You don’t say “Anglish” but “Inglish”, “Waterloo” not “Waterlow”, “mewseum” not “mooseum”.’ Fredi became insufferable and Isti couldn’t bear it. He spluttered out that ‘thomebody who had never been in England shouldn’t prethume to correct him’, and at this Fredi rejoined that if one didn’t speak English it was ridiculous to go there.

The quarrel got noisier and noisier and Laci Pongracz, who was not far away, heard it and promptly switched to an even louder csardas in an attempt to cover up what was happening. Even so some of those sitting nearby were beginning to notice, and Kadacsay called across the table, ‘Watch it, you two! People are listening.’

Whereupon the two would-be Englishmen stopped arguing and sat next to each other in grim silence. Before long Wuelffenstein could stand it no longer and, so as to have the last word, turned to Isti and said scornfully, ‘Anyhow I don’t believe you ever set foot in the St James’s!’

Kamuthy swelled with rage and, scarlet in the face at being denied his triumph, jumped up and lisped at the top of his voice, ‘Thatth nothing but ungentlemanly intholence! Intholent and ungentlemanly!’

‘How dare you?’ cried Wuelffenstein, also jumping up and at the same time banging the table with his enormous fist so that a coffee-cup was overturned and went clattering onto the floor. It was fortunate that Stanislo Gyeroffy chose the same moment to rise from the table and with considerable presence of mind guide his royal guest away from the scene of battle into the quiet of the smoking-room. Amidst the noise of everyone getting up from table the Comte d’Eu himself was quite unaware that anything untoward had happened. Posting himself in front of the fireplace he proceeded to give a long scholarly dissertation on the history and development of duelling to the group of obsequious old gentlemen who had accompanied him out of the hall.

Bogacsy was there too, sitting facing the prince. He did not remain there long because almost as soon as he had sat down Farkas Alvinczy came up to the back of his chair and whispered a few words in his ear. Then he vanished. The retired soldier’s eyes glinted but he did not move because at that moment the prince was looking in his direction. Somehow it seemed that his great handlebar moustaches had grown even longer as Bogacsy’s mouth widened in a smile of pure joy. As soon as the Comte d’Eu’s attention was engaged elsewhere Bogacsy got up and quietly left the room, leaving an empty place in the royal circle.

Kamuthy’s seconds were already waiting for him in the so-called Ladies’ Dining Room on the other side of the stairway. They were Joska Kendy, who stood there silently sucking on his pipe, and a mild young man called Garazda who came originally from Western Hungary and was now in his third year at the university in Kolozsvar. The usual stern greetings were exchanged with much formal ceremony but no shaking of hands. Then Fredi’s seconds, Bogacsy and Alvinczy, sat down on one side of the table and Isti’s on the other.

Then the traditional words were uttered, ‘Our client, Count Nandor Wuelffenstein, demands satisfaction.’

All went according to the customary procedure, and in a few moments everything had been settled. There was no question of a reconciliation, nor of a Court of Honour as was recommended by the Anti-Duelling League to all its members. Armed satisfaction then? Of course! Swords? Naturally! Both sides agreed to light cavalry sabres. Up to what point? Disability, of course! When …?

This was a problem, for Fredi, as general-secretary

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