They Were Divided - Miklos Banffy [90]
The priest and the manager, though not understanding what all this was about, had not thought that there was any reason to be disturbed.
A few moments later Kadacsay had come back into the sitting-room, followed by the valet and a footman who carried a mattress which he had told them to lay on the floor. When the servants had been dismissed he started to explain to his astonished audience why all this had been done. He had, he told them, taken a dose of strychnine and because he knew that this sometimes caused uncontrollable cramps, he had had the mattress placed there as it would be better and easier than writhing about on the wooden floor-boards! Then he had started to give further instructions about suckling pigs and the sheep’s feed …
Shortly afterwards he had looked again at the clock and said, ‘Strange! I don’t feel anything yet, though I’ve taken enough to fell an ox!’
Those had been his last words. A moment later he had lain down and, a few seconds later, had died.
‘Is he very disfigured?’ Balint asked when the pastor and the manager had finished their tale.
‘Not at all, my lord. Please come and look.’
They entered the manor house living-room, which was long and wide and obviously served also as a dining-room. In front of one of the windows was a small writing desk and, pushed against one of the side walls, was a plain pinewood table that had served for Gazsi’s meals. In the centre of the room, where this was usually placed, there was a mattress and on this lay the dead man covered with a white sheet.
Balint kneeled down beside him and drew back the sheet from his head. He looked at his friend’s face for a long time.
Nothing seemed to have changed and if he had not been as pale as wax Balint would have thought that he was merely playing some trick on them. His mouth held his usual mocking smile, his woodpecker nose was tilted slightly to one side and his eyebrows slanted upwards just as they always had when Gazsi had been telling a joke. One could almost believe that at any moment he would jump up roaring with laughter as he had so often done. And yet there was a difference. Gazsi’s face now held an expression of majestic calm, comprised of a dignity quite new to him – and of contempt, but mainly of contempt.
Balint was struck by the strangeness of it all, for this was not the Gazsi he had known in life. The dead man lying there was someone he did not know, someone who had appeared only in death.
He covered him again with the white sheet and