Hungarian Rhapsody

by Wendy Teller

  Well, not like Therese, but without a recommendation. She didn't mind stealing itself, but hurting Cook or Maid? She didn't really know Maid. She was fond of Cook, who had always been with the family.

  If she was to start a new rational life, she had better start it now. And causing Cook or Maid trouble, real trouble, poverty, shame.... No. She could not do it.

  But she must leave. And she needed the money.

  She grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper and scribbled:

  Mother,

  I cannot marry. I have gone. I have taken money from the drawer. I will pay back this money, as soon as I can.

  Love,

  Ella

  She stopped writing. Her mother's cries tore through her. Poor Mother!

  She laid the paper in the middle of the table.

  Leaving the note had cost her time.

  She must leave now, before someone got up.

  She pushed the money into her satchel, just underneath her shawl, next to her under things and her books. She slipped several large bills in her pocket, for easier access. She didn't want to fumble for money at the train station.

  Ella walked to the front door, bumping into the coat stand in the entry hall. It rattled and looked like it might tumble. She steadied it.

  The door was locked.

  Her hands shook as she tried the first large key, which didn't even fit the keyhole. She tried the next and it went in all the way. She turned it and heard the happy sound of the tumblers dropping.

  She pushed the door as gently as she could until it opened just enough for her to go through. Dropping the fob in her satchel, she pulled the door shut. She didn't relock it. They would see her note soon enough, no point in locking the door in the pretense that nothing was amiss.

  She took the stairs by twos, trying to be quiet.

  Now that she was out of the house, she needed to hurry.

  She walked down Fő út, past Ede's house. A lump grew in her throat.

  Dear Ede.

  Or Ede the beast?

  She touched the necklace, which still hung under her blouse. She should have left that. That was a gift to Ede's wife and she no longer considered herself his wife. That was like stealing too. But she could not turn back now. If she did she would be married. No. She would find a way to return it to him.

  She steadied herself as she turned down Sörház út, much narrower than Fő út, walking past the City Hall and the Iron Man House.

  The morning air was fresh and cool. Birds chirped and twittered, telling the sun it was time to rise. This was the first day of her new life. It would be a good life, a worthy life, a life in which she did something of value.

  Not like Mother's life.

  She entered the train station, her steps echoing as she walked across the empty high-ceilinged hall. She knew there were early trains for Vienna, though she was not sure when they left. She hoped that she could get one soon.

  "Good morning Miss Weisel."

  She looked into the stationmaster's mustachioed face.

  "What is the bride doing here so early?" he grinned at her.

  "Oh, Mr. Kovacs, I must go to Budapest. My Aunt needs help."

  Oh no. She had misspoken. She had said Budapest. Of course that had been her first plan and she hadn't thought through another one. But it was done. Now she had to carry it through. Maybe when she got to Budapest she could take another train to Vienna. That would be better anyhow, in case Mother sent Miklos after her.

  "You'd think Mrs. Weisel could send someone other than the bride," the stationmaster said as he stroked his long mustache, turning the right tip up just a bit.

  "I'm Auntie's favorite, and she isn't feeling well."

  "You are a devoted girl, doing that for your aunt."

  Was that a gleam of sarcasm she saw in his eyes? The whole town probably knew of all the turmoil that preceded this hasty wedding.

  "She's my favorite too."

  "OK, well it's a round-trip ticket to Budapest then."

  "Oh, no."

  She didn't want to spend more than she had to, but he would expect a round trip ticket, since she would need to return for her wedding.

  "I'm not sure how we are coming back."

  "OK." His chuckle sounded like a taunt to Ella's ear. "But the train is the fastest way."

  His grin grew wider. "You don't want to miss your own wedding."

  She nodded and tried to smile, hating him all the more for his little joke.

  "One first-class ticket to Budapest," he said.

  She wished that she could get a second or even a third class ticket, to save money. But of course Mr. Weisel's daughter would only travel first class.

  He quoted the price.

  Ella reached into her pocket and pulled out three bills. She wished she had taken more money. She wished she had counted what she had taken before she left. She begged her hand not to shake.

  The stationmaster handed her a ticket.

  "Off you go. Track 2. The Budapest train leaves immediately and you don't want to miss it. There won't be another one until noon."

  Again the broad grin and the twinkle in his eye.

  The Ride to Budapest

  Ella ran onto the platform. The train was huffing steam and the conductor, calling all aboard, looked up and down the platform for late comers. He gave her a hand as she climbed the stairs. Again he looked in both directions and then looked at her.

  "Who is traveling with you, Miss?"

  "I'm alone."

  His eyes narrowed. "I see." He took her satchel. "Wench."

  She inhaled sharply. She wasn't sure what that meant, but she didn't like his familiar tone, and she didn't know how to respond. She ignored him, walking quickly down the narrow corridor.

  He followed. "This compartment," he said.

  The compartment seated six, but there was no one else in it. The conductor started to put her satchel in an overhead cabinet.

  "I'll keep that with me." She didn't want her things out of her sight.

  He nodded, handed the bag to her, and closed the door as he departed.

  She settled on the cushioned seat, covered in rich brocade. There were seats across from her. Above the seats, the walls bulged in curves. These hid bunks that could be opened up at night, but this train would be in Budapest by early afternoon.

  The whistle blew and the train lurched forward.

  The compartment provided her the privacy she had craved, the privacy to count her money. She drew out the bills and change, counting.

  Counting like her mother.

  The train ticket alone had been more than she had expected. She could not purchase a ticket to Vienna when she got to Budapest.

  At least not a first class ticket.

  But maybe a second class ticket?

  She didn't know. She didn't even know how to find out. Were the prices posted? She had never paid for anything, except at the market.

  Maybe it would be better to stay in Budapest, just for a day or two, to figure out what she would do next. If she did she would have to stay somewhere away from her aunt, who lived in the Buda hills. She would stay across the Danube in Pest.

  She had always wanted to explore Pest. She had been there once, with her aunt, who had taken her to the city park, with its zoo and lake, and the display of castles. It had been fun when she was nine, but she was convinced there were more interesting places to go in Pest.

  She got out her Huck and tried to read about his escape from Aunt Sally's. She hadn't used her bed linens, as he did. But one didn't do that kind of thing in Nagykanizsa. What if someone saw her climbing down from the third story, right onto Fő út, her satchel hanging from her arm, her skirts flying?

  The thought made her laugh. She would get through this. She would conquer Budapest. That is, Vienna.

  She looked out the window and caught a glimpse of Lake Balaton as the train sped by. Lake Balaton, with sail boats and beaches.

  She remembered an excursion with Father and Miklos th
e summer when she was ten. Ede had come too. They swam in the lake and walked along the shore. They read to each other at night. They went out after dark and named the constellations.

  Oh, Ede!

  She felt the weight of the necklace against her skin, but her mother's words echoed in her head: "He had his way with me."

  She straightened her spine. She would need to find work, a way to support herself.

  How does one find work?

  She had never thought about that question. She had seen Mother interview maids, cooks, nannies, even companions, but she had no idea how Mother found those people to interview. Or how the applicants got the interview.

  Did one just go to the place one wanted to work and ask?

  Supposing this was how it was done, where would she go?

  She knew she wanted to translate. She knew she was good enough to translate French or German or English. Probably there were plenty of people who could translate German; many people in Hungary spoke German as their mother tongue. But French? Or even better English. The only person she knew, other than herself, who could speak English was Ede.

  And Alexa, of course. But she was in Chicago now.

  Oh, Ede! She bit her lip.

  She would not think about Ede.

  How does one find a job translating from English? Or to English? Who would need that? Maybe a place that had English speaking people. An embassy? A business? Or maybe a newspaper?

  The train rocked gently and the sound mesmerized her. Her lids closed as she thought of newspapers. Where were newspapers printed? Or written. She recalled the journal that Ede had shown her, The Twentieth Century, its cream cover, with the list of articles and writers. There was Ede's name. The title of an article: Ede has His Way with Ella. She turned to the page. Words, blurry words, ran down the page.

  She smelled something sour.

  Whiskey.

  She felt a hand on her throat, a hand working its way under her collar.

  She opened her eyes.

  Eyes stared into hers, blue watery eyes. Lips pressed against hers as the hand undid a button at the top of her blouse.

  She screamed and pushed the eyes, the lips, the hands away.

  She pushed as hard as she could, flaying her arms and legs.

  The man, the fat old man backed away, his hands held out in front of him.

  She grabbed her satchel, pulled the door to the compartment open, and ran down the corridor. The swaying train knocked her off balance so that she bounced between the outer wall of the car and the compartments.

  She reached the end of the car, which had a door connecting to the next car. She twisted the handle and pulled the door open.

  The heat of the day blew in her face. What had been the quiet click clack of the train was now a roar.

  As she looked back over her shoulder she saw the back of the fat man at the door of her compartment, his arms gesticulating. The conductor, facing the man, looked at her.

  She stepped onto the platform, opened the door on the other side, and closed it behind her. When she entered the next car, the roar hushed. It was a third class car, the seats in neat rows. People looked up at her. She put her hand to her throat to cover the unbuttoned collar. Several rows down three nuns sat. Ella hurried to them.

  "Sisters, may I sit with you?"

  The Sisters

  The nun on the right, the one with the steely eyes, the graying brows, and the long straight nose, nodded, then pushed her chin forward indicating Ella should sit next to the nun on the other bench. The sister on the opposite bench, a young woman, maybe only a year or two older than Ella, moved over, making more room.

  Ella sat down on the bench, a hard wooden surface, not cushioned like the seats in the first class cabin. Better a hard safe seat than a cushy chair and the man with watery blue eyes and sour breath.

  "You are in trouble, child?" The nun with steely eyes asked. Her face was stony.

  "Non, non," Ella decided to speak in French, hoping the sisters did not speak it. That way she would have to answer fewer questions.

  "You are French?" The stern sister unfortunately did speak French.

  Ella wasn't sure how well. Suddenly she was unsure of her own accent.

  "Oui." She cast her eyes down, trying to avoid the sister's penetrating eyes.

  "Your name?" the older nun asked.

  She couldn't give her real name. She didn't want anyone to know who she was. She didn't want to be sent back to Nagykanizsa.

  “Therese." It was the first name that came to mind.

  "I see." The nun's voice had that imperious tone, like Mother Mary Theresa's at the convent school, like an abbess. Ella knew that mother superior tone. It was used again and again, drilling, wheedling, digging for the truth. It did not lead to a good place.

  "Do you have a family name Therese?"

  Ella could not recall Therese's family name. Maybe that was just as well. She wouldn't want to name Therese. It might give this Mother Superior clues to who she really was.

  But she needed a family name. A French family name. She remembered the name of the doctor in A Tale of Two Cities. "Manette. Therese Manette."

  "And who is traveling with you, Miss Manette?"

  Just like the stationmaster and the conductor, Mother Superior wanted to know why a young girl would be traveling alone.

  At that moment, Ella wished Therese was with her. If Therese were here, she would not have been attacked by that man with the sour breath. Yes, perhaps her mother had reason to hire a companion. Perhaps young women were only safe when traveling with a companion. She had not valued Therese when she had her and now, when she really needed her....

  "I am traveling alone, to see my aunt in Budapest. She is ill."

  "A French girl has an aunt in Budapest?"

  "Yes, yes. She married a Hungarian."

  "I see."

  Mother Superior folded her hands in her lap. Mother Mary Theresa had done that too, as if it helped lay traps for lying students.

  Where are you from, Therese Manette?"

  "Paris." The answer was automatic. Therese had been from Paris.

  "A beautiful city."

  "Yes."

  "Where did you live?"

  Ella wished she had paid more attention when Therese had talked about her home. She wished she had paid more attention to the map of Paris Therese had shown her. She needed an answer. "Champs-Élysées."

  Ella glanced at Mother Superior quickly, who nodded. "I see." Her lips stretched in a frown. "A French girl, traveling alone, whose Hungarian is better than her French."

  The nun’s words were sharp. "A French girl who lives on the Champs-Élysées."

  Ella looked down and bit her lip. Saying anything else would only make things worse.

  "I would say that you are not where you are supposed to be and you are not doing what you are supposed to be doing."

  Ella held her breath, looking down.

  "Button your blouse, French girl." The words were hushed but biting.

  Ella's fingers went to her throat, fumbling to push the button through the button hole. Mother Superior would see her shaking hands and know she was right.

  "Who are you?" Mother Superior demanded.

  Somehow the command gave Ella courage, the courage she had when she defied Mother. She met Mother Superior's eyes. She did not blink. She did not say a word.

  "Whoever you are, you shall come to the convent when we get to Budapest. Once you are there we will discover the truth."

  Ella thought of the time she spent on her knees in the convent school, Mother Mary Theresa demanding she confess her sins. She thought of the burning rap of the ruler across her knuckles when she made a mistake in her tatting. She remembered how sister held up her embroidery, showing everyone the uneven puckered work. Ella knew she must not go to the convent. But she also needed a safe place to sit until the train arrived in Budapest.

  She touched Ede's emerald under her blouse and planned her escape.

&nbs
p; Arrival

  The train slowed as it entered the outskirts of Budapest, a landscape she remembered from her visits to her aunt. People began to gather their belongings.

  Ella caught the Mother Superior's eye. "Might I get your things for you?"

  The nun nodded and pointed out three identical black cases in the overhead bin.

  Ella had already guessed which ones they were. She carefully pulled one down setting it between her and the benches where the sisters sat. Then the next and the last one, setting them down next to the first, so they formed a row between herself and the sisters.

  She nodded towards the lavatory and set off at a calm pace. When she got to the lavatory, she looked over her shoulder. The older nun was handing one of the cases to the youngest sister.

  Ella pulled the door between cars open and rushed across the platform, her satchel over her shoulder. She let the car door slam behind her in the next car and ran down the aisle as the train slowed.

  She crossed over to the next car, where she pulled her shawl from her bag, wrapping it over her head and around her neck letting the ends drape down her back as the peasant women did.

  By this time, the train had stopped. People crowded the aisle, but she bustled to the back of the car. She looked back, hoping not to see the nuns' black head covering. Everyone was now pushing toward the doors and Ella joined them, not wanting to be the last one on the train, not wanting to be easily spotted. She concentrated on staying in the middle of the crowd, resisting the temptation to look for the nuns.

  The mass of people flowed off the car and walked along the train toward the terminal. The nuns' car was closer to the terminal, so if they tried to locate her, they would stand out walking against the crowd.

  That was true as long as they were still walking to the terminal. Once they had reached it, the nuns might wait and try to find her. She added a limp to her walk and sloughed to one side, hoping that this, along with her shawl might serve as a disguise.

  A young couple just ahead of her chatted in Croat. Ella caught snatches of their conversation, though her Croat was meager. They were going to an inn, close to the train station. They talked about whether they might walk rather than find a carriage or take a tram. They stopped to look at a map.