Journey by Moonlight

“And this I have to tell you, though it’s difficult for me to talk about it, even after so much wine, but my wife must know everything: I really enjoyed being the sacrificial victim. It was the first thing I thought of when I woke up, and I looked forward to it the whole day long, yes … ”

“Why did you enjoy being the victim?” asked Erzsi.

“Hmmm … well, for erotic reasons, if you follow me. I think … yes. After a while, I would dig up these stories myself, so I could be the victim according to my taste. For example: Éva would be an Apache girl (the cinema had already begun to channel her fantasy — there were films about them at the time) and would lure me into her camp. She would get me drunk, then they would rob me and murder me. Or, the same thing done historically, say, Judith and Holofernes. That story I really adored. Or I would be a Russian general, Éva a spy. She puts me to sleep and steals the plan of campaign. Tamás is the heroic assistant. He chases after Éva, recovers the secret plans. But Éva frequently neutralises him, and the Russians suffer horrific losses. That sort of story would take shape as the game developed. It’s interesting that Tamás and Éva really enjoyed these games. It’s only me that’s still embarrassed by them, and even now I speak of them with some shame. They never did. Éva loved to be the woman who cheats, betrays and murders men, Tamás and I loved to be the man she cheats, betrays, murders, or utterly humiliates … ”

Mihály stopped talking and sipped his wine. After a while Erzsi asked:

“Tell me, were you in love with Éva Ulpius?”

“No, I don’t think so. If you really must know if I was in love with anyone, then it was more like Tamás. Tamás was my ideal. Éva was just a bonus, and the erotic catalyst in these games. But I wouldn’t really agree that I was in love with him, because the phrase is misleading, and you would continue to think there was some unhealthy homo-erotic bond between us, which simply wasn’t the case. He was my best friend, using the word in a very adolescent sense, and what was unhealthy in the affair was, as I said before, something quite different and of a deeper nature.”

“But tell me, Mihály … this is rather difficult to believe … you were with her for years on end, and there was never any question of an innocent flirtation between you and Éva Ulpius?”

“No, none.”

“How was that?”

“How? … in fact … probably, that we were so intimate that it wasn’t possible to flirt or fall in love with one another. For love, there has to be a distance across which the lovers can approach one another. The approach is of course just an illusion, because love in fact separates people. Love is a polarity. Two lovers are the two oppositely charged poles of the universe.”

“This is all very deep, for so late at night. I don’t get the full picture. Perhaps the girl was ugly?”

“Ugly? She was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. No, that isn’t quite right. She was the one beautiful woman against whom I have since measured all others. All my later loves were like her in some particular. With one, it would be the legs, with another, the way she lifted her head, with a third, her voice on the telephone.”

“Myself included?”

“You included … yes.”

“In what way am I like her?”

Mihály blushed and fell silent.

“Tell me. I insist.”

“How can I put it? … Stand up, would you, and come over here beside me.”

Erzsi stood beside his chair. He put his arm around her waist and looked up at her. She smiled.

“Now … that’s it,” said Mihály. “When you smile down at me like that. That’s how Éva smiled when I was the victim.”

Erzsi disengaged herself and sat down again.

“Very interesting,” she said, somewhat crestfallen. “You’re certainly holding something back. Never mind. I don’t consider it necessary that you should tell me everything. I don’t feel any pangs of conscience about the fact that I’ve not told you about my adolescence. I don’t think it very important. But tell me — you were in love with this girl. It’s just a matter of words. Where I come from it was what you would call love.”

“No. I tell you I wasn’t in love with her. Just the others.”

“What others?”