Parallel Stories: A Novel (106 page)

And even those who cannot possibly be among us.

Lowering his voice to a whisper, he continued.

Listen, while we are peacefully talking about these things, the Mayer boy is trying to recruit my Swabian stokers into the Volksbund.
*
An enormous struggle for their souls, he whispered desperately. It is our job to talk the Swabian element out of this.

How could you possibly remain indifferent.

At this point Madzar interrupted Bellardi’s impassioned speech, his voice gentle.

But my dear Laci, you know that I myself am a good part Swabian.

Bellardi’s instant silence suggested deep surprise, his breath nearly stopped.

Oh, come on, you don’t know what you’re saying. I’ve always considered you a good Hungarian.

That’s only one side of the coin, what you’ve considered me to be.

Maybe you didn’t understand me correctly.

But what I consider myself to be is a whole other thing.

There is no better Hungarian than Professor Lehr. Even Dezs
ő
Szabó isn’t a better Hungarian than he is. And Ferenc Herczeg is a good Hungarian too.

Madzar laughed, not because he was in a good mood but because he was upset by what he had heard, so he laughed as if he thought that what Bellardi had told him was entertaining.

Before you tell me too much, before you tell me more than you want to, he said, still laughing, I’d like to warn you that Hungarian is not even my mother tongue. You couldn’t possibly have forgotten that you and the other boys found my accent in Hungarian a reason for constantly making fun of me.

Actually, even today he was reluctant to admit that being laughed at had hurt him.

My mother’s name is still Barbara Stricker.

His voice faltered, but he did not add that the boys had laughed at him especially because of his mother’s name.

And after so many years, he almost broke down over the old humiliations.

They were sitting opposite each other, painful seconds ticking away in their shared pain, the evenly puffing luxury liner continuing to slice the night in two.

Never again, he thought fervently, never.

As if they had been pulled apart for good and continued to keep their seats only out of tact and politeness. Madzar motionless, angry, his head down, his face raised to the captain’s, while his heavy fist, strong to the point of shapelessness and in an ominous state of readiness, lay on the cream-colored tablecloth. Bellardi floating in his state of surprise, oblivious to his cigar.

Hard as he exercised his mind, suddenly he could not return to his subject.

I don’t remember anything like that, he said very quietly and uncertainly, I don’t remember ever making fun of any of your traits or abilities. All my life I’ve admired you, my friend.

My one sweet pal, what are you talking about. He moaned as he said it.

It sounds rather improbable that you don’t remember.

Bellardi would have to return from his ideals and step back into reality.

He did not want to remember what he was being reminded of because he did not want to see himself in all his sinister narrow-mindedness.

He remembered the slingshot too, of course he did.

They were looking at each other’s tear-filled eyes, at each other’s struggle, but they could no longer read each other, could no longer see behind each other’s face.

In helpless anger Bellardi crushed out his cigar and kept squeezing and grinding it until it fell apart, leaving only dry, stinking debris.

Because even at this very moment he loved his old friend, adored him.

What makes you think I don’t know whom I’m talking to, he exclaimed finally in a suppressed, strangely threatening voice. In what other ways would you like me to woo you. You don’t think we checked your background thoroughly. How else might I convince you of my honest intentions.

He paused to control his emotions.

Do you think that such an extensive organization can be built and maintained without keeping a record of the people we think of as potential members and of how we size them up. It can’t be that I so misjudged this encounter, he thought to himself at the same time.

You’re deliberately misunderstanding me, and I also know why, pal, he said loudly. Don’t forget that whatever you know, I also know very well.

Nevertheless, all right, I admit, I’m not a great moral giant, and there was a time when I nastily betrayed you. All I have to say for myself is that I didn’t do it out of convenience. Maybe my conscience told me to do it.

He was shaking with emotion as he shuttled desperately between haughty rejection and sensible admission.

But you also know very well that I loved you more than anybody else and to this day I love you like a brother.

I didn’t love you any less, said the other one heavily.

Yes, I am a race protector, Bellardi bellowed, his voice now at top volume.

Because he could not help noticing that the other man referred to his love only in the past.

But that does not necessarily make me a racist.

Which I am not, he added.

He realized that with his statements quoting Professor Lehr’s words, so often repeated as self-reassuring commonplaces in the society organized for the protection of Hungarians, he had truly surprised his old friend.

It is not a prerequisite of membership, he continued somewhat more objectively, that both one’s parents be pure Hungarians. It is enough that the person’s father and paternal grandfather are Hungarian. Even if you tried not to, you could not help fulfilling this requirement.

He laughed briefly with these last words.

And another reason you should understand all this, he continued quietly, more sarcastic than angry, is that this is what you think too. Weren’t you the one who told me how the Jewish element was striving to control architecture all over the world, he asked.

Hearing so much explanation and self-justification astounded Madzar. As if he had suddenly seen the mechanism of the other’s soul and finally realized that in that gapless mechanism no room had been left for a sense of reality.

He became frightened of Bellardi and had to be on guard to maintain his self-control.

I’ve told you clearly what I am not. And a national socialist I definitely wouldn’t want to be because, unlike you, I do know what that means.

You mean that in your eyes I am a national socialist.

I make no judgments about you.

Ridiculous. Truly ridiculous.

For God’s sake, would you like to tell me then what’s the difference between German and Hungarian race protection. I don’t want to tear the world apart in the spirit of race protection.

In that case, Bellardi replied, our views are one hundred percent identical.

That’s the reason I’m going away, Madzar whispered passionately.

I too would prefer to be a humanist, Bellardi continued, if you permit me to share with you this guilty, mixed company. At least that’s what I still am because of my upbringing, and I will remain one too. I never gave you cause to call me a national socialist.

I did not call you anything.

But that’s what we’re talking about, about why Hungarians cannot let the Germans occupy Hungary by exploiting Hungarian racial interests. We must resist them, and who says resistance is a crime. In a life-threatening situation such as the current one, there is no other solution. Even the more reasonable Jews admit this and cooperate with us. You should really hear Lehr speak. His very beautiful wife is Jewish.

My dear Lojzi, I am not interested in your bloodline, and you know that very well.

If I took matters that seriously, I should reprimand you for working for a Jew, since that means you are strengthening them.

Or I could have said I wasn’t interested in the Hungarians’ cause because according to my bloodline and my name I am Italian.

He did not seem to be near the end of what he meant to say when suddenly Madzar’s fist rose as if he were going to strike the table.

But he did not.

He rose, kicked the armchair out from under him, and stood up.

You don’t imagine, I mean you don’t think, he said dryly, without emotion, that anyone has the right to tell me, or keep a record of, whom I could or should not work for.

The polite smile did not disappear from his face.

By now he had gained a reliable insight into the way the other man’s thinking and strategy dovetailed.

In response Bellardi also rose, but he took his time to tower over the table.

Nevertheless, putting my trust into good old common sense, I will continue, he said very quietly, almost amiably, as if free of disturbing emotion. Even though at that moment, because of his own sluggishness and lack of comprehension, he loathed and disdained Madzar with all the released force of his zeal; or perhaps it was himself he hated so much. He could not understand why he wanted so passionately to lure Madzar into something he knew was not right for him.

Who would not serve him.

And why doesn’t this servant serve him.

Fortunately, he managed to check his impending fury.

It’s a bit like saying that I’m giving you another chance to save your soul from damnation, he cried out with an unexpected laugh.

Believe me, I know your soul better than you do.

His teeth gleamed wetly.

Come on, what the hell do you know, whom do you know, the architect asked himself angrily. Yet the other man fascinated and enchanted him with his insistence and with his convinced inflexibility, which—along with his teeth and his laughter, false to the point of perfection—he had inherited from his mother and which made him very like her.

It also occurred to him that this was maniacal work, a work of madness, of being blind and deaf.

This cautionary thought, however, made him hesitate in his effort to defend himself at all cost from the threat of approaching chaos.

From crashing along with them.

Why didn’t the terrible beauty of chaos seduce him.

You know very well, he protested weakly, that I am going to set up my life in an entirely different world. It will be like going to the moon. I can’t see why, knowing this, you’re talking to me about these matters.

The little boy’s smile on Bellardi’s face now formed charming little dimples between the strong grooves and sharp lines.

Now you’re talking, he said, letting a chuckle shake his body, his pleasure made visible, this is exactly the point I hoped to arrive at, Lojzi, my precious.

Which, however, was no longer an innocent pleasure but a well-calculated obvious way to perform the latest act of the play that starred the two of them. They could not lose the game, had no reason to, and therefore had to do everything to save every single soul.

He could not be disappointed in himself.

Now, however, I must go below with you because we’re preparing to dock.

He gently grasped Madzar’s elbow and as he did so the ship’s horn wailed, long and desperate.

Madzar, to his shame, shuddered.

Our network is widening, looking for possible residents abroad, Bellardi shouted over the horn. We have people in many places already, including America. But it’s a huge continent, you know, and right now it’s brains like yours that we need.

He opened the door, and as they silently went down the dimly lit stairs, the ship’s bell sounded from the bridge and kept ringing until the engine stopped completely.

They could see the lit-up Mohács pier swim past them in the gloomy silence.

The currents were carrying them on with incredible force; only here, very close to the riverbank and under the enormous embankment, did their power become visible.

Moths and mosquitoes were hovering between the water and the floodlights’ beams, as if the light had torn them from the darkness.

And as the current carried them well past the docking bridge and the yellow docking station, festive with the white flowers of the wide-crowned horse chestnut trees, the noisily reversing engine once again made their bodies rattle. They were almost in line with the cold block of the darkened silk-factory building when, with the ringing of a small bell, the two paddle wheels began to rotate backward and the squeaky rudder turned sharply. Now they were moving in reverse, against the current, and the dark, great river gurgled, boiled, seethed, and churned under them until the enormous side of the
Carolina
bumped against the docking bridge.

Think about it, please, Bellardi said, almost derisively. But please don’t let it upset you. No point in making a drama of it, you’ve no reason to. What we are talking about, first of all, is that when the occasion arises you should join us. This is a simple invitation, friendly and respectful, nothing else. You can’t be so contemptuous of your race or, if not your race, of truth and fairness, as to refuse to join us. And after that, we’ll see. The whole summer is still ahead of us.

Anyway, I’d like to spend the summer with you, exactly as we did a long time ago.

At the right moment I’ll ask you for your response.

He spoke tolerantly and mockingly, as if he had managed to outwit his friend after all. Then he unexpectedly waved good-bye and, before Madzar had time to respond in any way, disappeared into a dark passage on the deck.

Madzar, who had forgotten his coat and cap, was about to step onto the dock when he heard the old waiter call,
Gestatten Sie mir
, then thrust the cap into his hand and helped him on with his coat.

And the following day, in Ármin Gottlieb’s lumberyard he found what he had been looking for, and the discovery wiped away his mental anguish and his agitation.

I have such luck. How damn lucky I am again.

He exulted inside.

Bellardi, with his bizarre stories, was the first person whom Madzar completely forgot about once he had found the wood.

More accurately, one emotional upheaval was exchanged for another.

The old lumber merchant did not recognize him.

He sat over his papers at his desk in the lumberyard office; there were papers and business ledgers everywhere on the table, on chairs, on top of the filing cabinets. With his whey-colored eyes, he looked up at Madzar from behind his thick glasses, which even in his childhood Mazdar had thought looked like fish eyes, and listened to him without making a sound.