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.“I simply won't stand for it.You spoke of nonsense earlier on.Well, here's your nonsense.”Ákos awoke from his drunken stupor, as if the day were beginning to dawn within him.“All right then,” he conceded, “let's be reasonable.I'm a reasonable man, after all.”“Well, you're not a bit reasonable right now.You come home at all hours, turn the place upside down, throw money all over the floor, try to set my house on fire and then talk all kinds of nonsense.What you need is a good night's sleep.” With that she made straight for the bed.“Mother,” said Ákos, calling her back.“Stay a while longer,” he begged.The woman stopped still.“What do you want?” she demanded.“With all this crying, all this shouting? I really can't understand you.”Her voice was cold and stern.She paused.Then, a little more gently:“All right, so she won't marry.So what? Plenty of girls remain single.She's thirty-five years old, someone may still come along.You never know.Just when we least expect it.Do you want me to approach people in the street? Or put an advertisement in the paper? For a Vajkay girl? Come on, for heaven's sake.”Mother stopped talking.Ákos waited for her to go on.Her words did him good.The crueller the better.He wanted more, only harder, sharper.After a while the woman continued:“Or say she does get married.Just for the sake of argument.Suppose she does.To whoever proposes.Because there's always someone.Do you really think that marriage is such a heaven these days? Janke Hernád got married.Mrs Záhoczky told us all about it.How she came to the last Ladies’ Society ball, her eyes red from weeping.Married some card-playing nobody who gambled the whole dowry away in half a year.And now where are they? Magda Proszner's husband beats her.Beats her, I tell you, and drinks.As for Biri Szilkuthy, you know her story.She was here today, pouring her heart out.Shame you didn't hear her.Is that what you want so badly? No, let her stay here with us.She'll never be as happy anywhere else.If that's God's will.After all, she's so used to us now.”Out in the street, directly beneath their window, drunkards were whooping and bawling.Perhaps a group of Panthers, making their way through the night.They waited for the commotion to die down.Mrs Vajkay pondered, always returning to the same point of departure.“Ridiculous, the things you said.Hasn't she got everything she could possibly desire? She has nine dresses, two of which I've just had made for her.And five pairs of shoes.When she asked for that lovely blue feather boa last autumn, I bought it for her at once, even though it was frightfully expensive, fourteen forints.We've always given her all we could, haven't we, according to our means.It's true we had to economise here and there, but life is hard.And everything I've ever brought into this house is hers, her dowry, no one else so much as lays a finger on it.I set aside my every penny, and go on working in my old age, depriving myself of all good things so that she should have all she desires, the very best in life.And we brought her up well, didn't we? She finished school, I taught her the piano.I know she didn't take it very far, but everyone can see that she's an educated child.And look at her needlework.Most parents would be only too proud.Look at all these lovely tablecloths and doilies.All her own work.It was sinful what you said.Sinful and stupid.”Now she seemed to rummage for something in her memory.There was a long pause before she continued:“When she was five she fell down the attic steps and bumped her head.They thought she had concussion and a fractured skull.Remember, we even called the specialist from Pest.For two whole months I pressed that ice-cold chamois to her poor little head.I was utterly exhausted, nearly fell to pieces.And you accuse me? Even now I take her everywhere.She's my only friend.What would my life be like without her? All I know is that I love her, and couldn't love anyone more.”Then she launched a new assault, turning to face her husband.“And you love her too, Father.You love her very much.You can say what you like, you silly old thing.When she fell that time, you yourself telegraphed for the doctor, running off at midnight like a madman.And you jumped for joy when the doctor said he'd no longer be needed.And think of all you did last year when she had that upset stomach.It was always you who took her to school, even when she was a big girl.And if she wasn't back by exactly half past twelve you were always scared she'd been run over.You bought her all those thick, warm clothes, so she shouldn't catch cold, and it was you who made her wear those awful thick stockings, poor thing.You were frightfully funny, you know.Your daughter and I had a right old laugh at you.Ah, the giggles we had together.Isn't that so?'Ákos smiled wearily.“But that's not the problem,” the woman continued.“The real problem is that you avoid people.Recently you've grown quite unsociable, a proper little hermit.But one can't just shut oneself away like we do.She'd like to go out more, too, only she never says so.It's because of you that she hides at home.She always thinks you'd be annoyed, that's why she doesn't suggest going anywhere.And she wouldn't want to go without you.But you can see how people like her and respect her–Környey, Priboczay, Feri Füzes and even.” Here she paused for thought.“Well, everyone.Let's make up our minds to go out at least once a week.And to take her with us.If you never show yourself, they just forget you.All we need is a bit of variety.Then everything will be different.All right?'Ákos was glad to be overpowered by the force of argument.And now that his wife had plunged to the very depths of cheerful absurdity, he threw his hand in and happily surrendered.“Why don't you say anything?” urged his wife.The old man was no longer in need of consolation.He had finally sobered up.He felt sleepy, and the soles of his feet were freezing on the cold floor.At last emerging from the storm which had whipped up his blood, he slowly made his way to the bed and lay down, thoroughly exhausted.It was good to lie down, if only because he no longer had to face his wife.He was ashamed of his earlier outburst, his sentimental, pusillanimous verbosity, which would make any man in his right mind blush.With the quilt pulled high over his chin, he really seemed to be hiding in bed.He waited to see what would happen next.His wife, however, had run out of things to say.She just sat there, motionless, in her armchair [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]