Journey by Moonlight

“Just don’t let me burst out crying, not just now. Father would deeply despise that, and he might also guess my tears were for him.”

Mihály pulled himself together and put on his most expressionless face, the face he habitually adopted for anything to do with his family.

“It was very kind of you to come, Father. You must have had important reasons for making this long journey, in summer … ”

“Yes of course, son, my reasons were important. But nothing unpleasant. There isn’t anything wrong. Although you haven’t asked, your mother and the family are well. And I see there’s nothing particularly wrong with you. Well then, let’s go and have lunch. Take me somewhere where they don’t cook in oil.”

“Erzsi and Zoltán Pataki were with me the day before yesterday,” his father said during the meal.

“What’s that? Erzsi’s in Pest? And they were together?”

“Oh yes. Pataki went to Paris, they made up, and he brought Erzsi home.”

“But why, and how?”

“My son, I truly do not know, and you can imagine, I didn’t enquire. We talked only about business matters. You know that your … how can I put this? … your odd, but I have to say not entirely surprising, behaviour placed me in an absurd situation with regard to Erzsi. An absurd financial situation. For Erzsi to liquidate her investment, in today’s climate … but you know all this, I think. Tivadar told you all about it in his letter.”

“Yes, I do know. Perhaps you won’t believe this, but I’ve been terribly worried about what might happen. Erzsi said that Zoltán … but do go on.”

“Thank God, there’s no harm done. That’s precisely why they came to see me, to discuss the terms under which I could pay them back the money. But I have to say they were so reasonable I was really very surprised. We agreed on all the details. They really are not too oppressive, and I hope we can resolve the whole matter without further difficulty. All the more so, because your uncle Péter managed to find a wonderful new lawyer.”

“But tell me: Zoltán, I mean Pataki, has behaved really decently? I don’t understand.”

“He has conducted himself like an absolute gentleman. Just between us, I think it’s because he’s so glad Erzsi went back to him. And he’s certainly carrying out her intentions. Erzsi is a really wonderful woman. It’s bad enough … but I have made up my mind not to reproach you. You always were a strange boy, and you know what you have done.”

“And Zoltán didn’t abuse me? He didn’t say that … ”

“He said nothing. Not a word about you, which was only natural, given the circumstances. On the other hand, Erzsi did mention you.”

“Erzsi?”

“Yes. She said you had met in Rome. She gave absolutely no details, and naturally I didn’t enquire, but she hinted that you were in a very critical situation, and thought that your family had turned against you. No, don’t say anything. As a family we’ve always respected each other’s privacy, and we’ll keep it that way. I’m not interested in the details. But Erzsi did advise that, if it were at all possible, I should come to Rome myself and talk to you about your going back to Pest. Her actual words were, that I should ‘bring you home’.”

Bring him home? Yes, Erzsi knew what she was saying, and how well she knew Mihály! She saw clearly that his father could lead him home like a truanting schoolboy. She well knew it was his nature to submit, as indeed he was submitting, like a child caught running away: but of course always with the mental reservation that, when the next opportunity presented itself, he would run away again.

Erzsi was so right. There was no other course but to go home. There might have been another solution, but … the external circumstances he had wanted to escape through suicide seemed to have vanished. Zoltán had made his peace; his family were waiting for him with open arms; nobody was after him.

“So, here I am,” continued his father, “and I would like you to wind up all your business here immediately and come home. On tonight’s train, in fact. You know I haven’t much time.”

“Please, this is all a bit sudden,” said Mihály, emerging from his day-dream. “This morning I was thinking of anything but going home to Pest.”

“I’m sure, but what objection is there to your coming home?”

“Nothing. Just let me catch my breath. Look, it would do you no harm to lie down here for a while and take a siesta. While you’re resting I’ll get my thoughts in order.”

“Of course, as you think best.”

Mihály placed his father in the comfort of the bed. He himself sat in a large armchair, with the firm resolution of doing some thinking. His meditation took the form of recalling certain feelings in turn, and scrutinising their intensities. That was how he usually decided what he wanted, and whether he really did want what he thought he wanted.