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Old House

<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</h2> Wind had removed the vernal glory of the apple tree in front of the bookshop in Snake Street. Summer passed away too. Anne leaned her forehead against the window pane. A sound came from outside as if a drum were being beaten underground. The heavy steps of the new national guard rang rhythmically along the ground. The house heard it too and echoed it from its porch. In those times soldiers were frequently seen from the window, and when Mamsell Tini took Anne to the school of the English nuns, the walls were covered with posters. Crowds gathered before them. People stretched their necks to get a glimpse. Anne too would have liked to stop, but not for anything in the world would Mamsell Tini let her do so. “A respectable person must never loiter in the streets.” A boy stood on the kerb of the pavement. “What is there on those posters?” Anne asked as she passed. “War news ...” and the boy began to whistle. An old woman passed on the opposite corner.[Pg 57] She was wiping her eyes on the corner of her apron. “War news....” Anne stared at the old lady and these words acquired a sad significance in her mind. At dinner she watched her grandfather and father attentively. They talked of business and in between they were perfectly calm and ate a hearty meal. “Everybody is just the same as ever,” she reflected. “Perhaps the war news is not true after all.” Suddenly all this was forgotten. Her father just mentioned that the children would take dancing lessons every Sunday afternoon in Geramb’s educational institute. “It is a smart place,” said John Hubert. “Baron Szepesy’s young ladies go there and Bajmoczy the Septemvir’s daughters.” He pronounced the name “Bajmoczy” slowly, respectfully, and looked round to see the effect it produced on his audience. Next Sunday, Anne thought of nothing but the dancing school, even when she was at Mass. She stood up, knelt down, but it meant nothing to her. She traced with her finger the engraved inscription on the pew: “Ulwing family.” And they alone were allowed to sit in this pew though it was nearest the altar. Gál, the wine merchant, stood there under the pulpit, and Mr. Walter the wholesale linen merchant of Idol Street had no pew. Even the[Pg 58] Hosszu family sat further back than they, though they owned water mills and the millers of the Danube bowed to them. Anne classified the inhabitants of the parish according to their pews. During the exhibition of the Host, while she smote her chest with her little fist, she decided that her grandfather ranked before everybody else. All this time, Christopher Ulwing inclined his head and prayed devoutedly. When Anne looked up again, she saw something queer. Though turning towards the altar, little Christopher was looking sideways. She followed his eyes; her glance fell on Sophie Hosszu. Sophie leaned her forehead on her clasped hands. Only the lovely outline of her face was visible. Over her half-closed eyes her long black eyelashes lay in the shade.... Christopher, however, now sat stiffly, with downcast eyes, in the pew. Anne could scarcely refrain from laughing. Later the hours seemed to get longer and longer and it appeared as if that afternoon would never come to an end. The children became fidgety. The maid brought some leather shoes from the wardrobe; Anne addressed her reproachfully: “Oh, Netti, don’t you know? To-day I am to wear my new prunella boots!” Her apple-green cashmere frock was hanging[Pg 59] from the window bolts. The black velvet coat was spread on the piano. Since last year Anne had occupied her mother’s former room. The nursery had become the boy’s sole property. Christopher too was standing in front of the mirror. He was parting his fair, white-glimmering hair on one side; it was so soft it looked as if the wind had blown it sideways. He was pleased with himself and while he bent his soft shirt collar over his shoulders he started whistling. He never forgot a melody he had once heard. He whistled as sweetly as a bird. The rattle of wheels echoed under the porch. The two “pillar men” glanced into the windows of the fast receding coach. In Sebastian Square, in front of Baroness Geramb’s educational institute, three coaches were waiting. On one of them a liveried footman sat beside the coachman. This filled Christopher with envy. He thought that it would be a good idea to bring Florian, too, next Sunday. “Mind you don’t forget to kiss the ladies’ hands!” said John Hubert while they crossed a murky corridor. Then a tall white-glazed door led into a sombre dark room. Crooked tallow candles lit it up from the top of the wardrobes. Their mild light showed Sztaviarsky, hopping on tiptoe to and fro, and a row of little girls in crinolines and boys in white collars. Between the wings of another door and in the adjoining[Pg 60] room ladies and gentlemen sat on uncomfortable chairs. Through lorgnettes on long handles, they inspected each other’s children. Christopher at once perceived Sophie Hosszu among the grown-up people. Though Gabriel had told him she would be there, it gave him a shock. “Go and kiss hands,” whispered John Hubert. The boy leant forward with such zeal that he knocked his nose into the ivory hand of the Baroness Geramb. He also kissed the other ladies’ hands. When he came to Sophie he stared for a moment helplessly at the young girl. Sophie snatched her hand away and laughed. “But, Sophie!” said Baroness Geramb in her expiring voice and the ringlets dangled on the side of her face. She was not pleased with her former pupil. Christopher tripped over a hooped petticoat, and in his embarrassment felt as if he wanted to cry. In the other room, Sztaviarsky held the two tails of his alpaca evening suit high up in his hands. He was showing one of the Bajmoczy girls how to bow. “Demoiselle Bertha, pray, pray, attention,” and then he murmured something in Polish. There was a commotion at the door. “Mrs. Septemvir” Bajmoczy went to her daughter. Her silk dress rustled as it slid along the floor. She was tall and corpulent; her head was bent backwards and she always looked down on things. [Pg 61] This irritated Sztaviarsky all the more. He sucked his cheek in and looked round in search of a victim. “Demoiselle Ulwing, show us how to make a bow!” “But I don’t know yet....” Anne said this very low, and had a feeling as if the floor had caught hold of her heel. She could only advance slowly on tiptoe. She bent her head sideways and her side ringlets touched her shoulders. Her hand clung to her cashmere petticoat. The silence was interrupted by Sztaviarsky’s voice: “One.... Two ... complimentum.” Meanwhile John Hubert sat solemnly on a high, uncomfortable chair and, contrary to his habit, kept himself erect and never leaned back once. It seemed to Anne that he nodded contentedly. Everybody nodded. How good everybody was to her ... and she started to go to Bertha Bajmoczy. But the Pole stopped her with a sign. The lesson continued. Studies in school suffered seriously that week. Twice Christopher was given impositions. The Sundays passed.... In the Geramb educational institute’s cold, sombre drawing room the children were already learning the gavotte. It was towards the end of a lesson. The crooked tallow candles on the top of the wardrobe had burnt nearly to the end. Sztaviarsky was muttering Polish. Bertha Bajmoczy, wherever she stepped, tripped over her own foot. All of[Pg 62] a sudden, she began to weep. The young Baroness Szepesy ran to her; Martha Illey stood in the middle of the room and laughed wickedly; Anne had to laugh too. The boys roared. “Mes enfants.... Silence!” Baroness Geramb’s voice was more expiring than ever and her face was stern. Silence was restored. Bertha wiped her eyes furiously. She happened to look at Anne. “Since she came here everything has gone wrong.” Clemence Szepesy nodded and pinched her sharp nose. Anne paid no attention to this. She looked at her father in surprise. He stood beside Sophie Hosszu, leaning against the high, white panel of the door. While he talked, he kept one of his hands stuck in his waistcoat, which was adorned with many tiny flowers. With the other he now and then smoothed his thick fair hair back from his brow which it bordered in a graceful curve. He smiled. Until now Anne had never noticed that her father was still a young man. The dancing lesson was over. Walking down the poorly lit staircase, she heard more talk behind her. Just where the curving staircase turned, she was hidden from those coming from above. “Her grandfather was an ordinary carpenter,” said Clemence Szepesy. “Par exemple, what is that, a carpenter?” [Pg 63] “It’s the sort of fellow,” came the voice from above, “who worked last spring on the beams of our attics.” “Really such people ought not to be admitted into gentlefolks’ society.” It was Bertha’s voice. At first, Anne did not realise whom they were discussing—only later. How dared they speak like that of her grandfather! Of Ulwing, the master builder! Of him who sat in the first pew in church and before whom even the aldermen stood bare-headed! She turned round sharply. Those behind found themselves suddenly face to face with her. They slunk away to the balustrade. Anne gazed at them bewildered, then her countenance became sad and scared. She had just discovered something vile and dangerous that had been hitherto concealed from her by those she loved. She was taught for the first time in her short life that people could be wicked; she had always thought that everybody was kind. Her soul had till then gone out with open arms to all human beings without discrimination; now it felt itself rebuffed. On the drive home she sat silently in the coach. Her father spoke of the Septemvir Bajmoczy and his family. He pronounced the name respectfully, with unction. This irritated Anne at first. But her father’s and her brother’s content pained her only for an instant. She set her teeth[Pg 64] and decided that she would not tell them what had happened on the staircase. She felt sorry for them, more so than for herself, and for the sake of their happiness and peace of mind she charitably burdened her maiden soul with the heavy weight of her first secret. <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> [Pg 65] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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