Abigail

by Magda Szabo

  “Now eat up, you poor starving creature!”

  “You’re going to have another visitor,” Mráz warned her. Mitsi said she knew, it was why she had sent her up to bed, but he could see how hungry the girl was, and her day had not exactly been a picnic. If she had a bite to eat with them she would sleep all the better. Mráz said they ought to be quick about it, but Gina was devouring her food at such speed she was barely taking time to chew. The last morsel was in her mouth when Mráz gestured for them to be silent. Through the still open door into the hallway he had heard someone coming along the covered walkway from the gate.

  “As I said. I’ve been expecting them. Off you go, girl!”

  “And quickly,” Mitsi added. Gina dashed up the stairs.

  As she reached her room she heard someone come into the hall and Mitsi uttering a scream. She was so frightened she was unable to budge from the door and stood there listening intently. If Mitsi had screamed at the sight of her visitor then it must have been someone very unexpected. But whoever it was, the question was how would Mitsi deal with him? Mráz was in the drawing room, and she was upstairs.

  At last Abigail spoke. She said: “How did you get hold of a key to my house?”

  “I found it in the pocket of a girl’s uniform,” Susanna replied. Her voice was as cold and calm as ever. “A uniform someone had pushed underneath my bed, with some other bits of clothing. Would you be so kind as to return my clothes?”

  “Have you been drinking, Susanna?” Mitsi asked. And again she laughed. “What sort of clothes do you mean?”

  Oh my God, I never told her about the key, Gina thought. And I didn’t tell Mr. Mráz because I was afraid of him. She doesn’t know that I didn’t bring it with me. What have I done now?

  “I knew you were up to something! I spent the whole evening wondering what it could be. I couldn’t think why I was supposed to stand facing the wall, and when we realized that Vitay had gone you kept saying there was no need to look for her because she would be back soon: that was a real help. It’s thanks to you that she got away; you were pulling the strings. You came to celebrate Gedeon Torma’s name day. Well, you certainly gave him a good one.”

  “You have been drinking!” Mitsi Horn replied. “You’re such a clean-living girl the tiniest drop of wine goes to your head. How can you say I helped Vitay run away when I was with you playing games not fifteen minutes ago? And if you found the key to my house in her pocket, she couldn’t possibly have used it, even if she had stolen it from me.”

  “I have no idea how she managed to run away, but run away she has,” Susanna replied bitterly. “Someone in the Matula found a way for her to do it. I know only too well what Abigail is capable of.”

  Mitsi Horn was silent for a moment, then she laughed again.

  “She must have put down her pitcher—she was tired of carrying it anyway—stepped off her pedestal and led Vitay out of the school by the hand. Well, well, Susanna. I had no idea you knew about these juvenile superstitions. Perhaps you really believe in them? How does that square with your religion?”

  “I have known for eight years that there is someone operating behind that statue,” Susanna said. “In my third year Gabi Sarkadi, who left last summer, was in the first form. I nursed her once when she was very ill. I was with her all night. The next morning she was in floods of tears. She asked for some paper and a pencil, scribbled the words ‘Mummy, Mummy,’ and begged me to drop it into the pitcher because Abigail would bring her mother to see her. There was no reason to alarm her parents, the doctor had told us that she would recover, but she was very unwell, with such a terrible fever, and so frantic. I felt thoroughly ashamed of myself, but I did what she asked; it calmed her down and she immediately fell asleep. The next evening her mother arrived. She had had a long-distance telegram from the school telling her to come at once because her daughter was ill. The director was convinced that I had sent it and I accepted the reprimand because I thought his anger was justified. If I had not been so weak the message would never have gone, whoever sent it.”

  Gina thought she would die if she were unable to see the two of them at that moment, when her fate, and the rest of her life, was being decided. And not just her own—Abigail’s too, and perhaps even Susanna’s. She opened the door a crack. Mitsi Horn was standing with her back to her and the prefect was facing towards her. Her face was scarlet.

  “I won’t give Abigail away, you can be sure of that. Just let me have the girl I am responsible for and I’ll go. How can I deal with this matter if I haven’t got my formal costume?”

  “You are a child,” Mitsi said, in almost the same tone she had used with Gina. “You hate me so much you’re out of your mind. I may be frivolous by nature, but coming here with your story about the statue and the Sarkadi girl is too much. And as for this Abigail! You should be ashamed of yourself, Susanna. Your clothes are not here, I have told you that, and nor is Vitay. I know nothing about this. On the other hand you seem to have found my key and I would be grateful to have it back. My handbag was lying on a chair in the refectory the whole evening; anyone could have dipped their fingers into it if they wanted to, though why they should I have no idea, and I have even less idea why they should have thrown it under your bed inside the pocket of a girl’s uniform. So go back home. A pious young maid shouldn’t be out on the streets at this time of night.”

  Susanna slammed the key down on the table. Her face was clearly visible through the crack in the door, and Gina watched as she twice opened her mouth and closed it again, then pulled her bonnet over her head and made to leave.

  “Susanna!” Mitsi called after her.

  The Deaconess stopped in her tracks. Once again Gina could see her face, but not Abigail’s.

  “I have not set eyes on Vitay since that game in the refectory. I would like to forget this ridiculous business of the key, and the harsh words that have been said here tonight—that was all nonsense too—but there is something I have meaning to say to you for a long time. There is nothing going on between me and the person you think.”

  “Good night!”

  “Just a moment. Nothing personal, do you understand? He has loved you for years. If he has let you believe otherwise, it just isn’t true. Ask him to marry you. He feels so diffident towards you he simply doesn’t dare ask you himself.”

  Once again Susanna was silent. She stood and stared at Mitsi in astonishment, then suddenly flinched, as did Gina standing behind the door. From outside came the sound of shooting.

  “I really must go,” Susanna said. “It’s very late. But how can I get back now? What’s going on out there?”

  “That was gunshot,” Mitsi said. “Perhaps it’s the night patrol. I really don’t like the thought of letting you go, though I suppose no one would molest a deaconess. But if you don’t want to stay the night, I’m afraid you will have to.”

  “You know I am not allowed to sleep outside the school premises,” Susanna said. “I’m quite sure I’ll get back safely. God will protect me.”

  “I know He will,” Mitsi said. Gina noticed that the voice that was usually so full of laughter was now deadly serious. “And don’t forget what I told you. Bear it in mind. There is nothing between me and him. Have you understood that? And if you have to tell people in the school that you lost your gown and bonnet, please don’t tell them about the key. You would get me into serious trouble, and Gedeon would be very upset. See, I am putting it here. It can’t fall into the wrong hands again. And don’t make Vitay’s life difficult when she comes back.”

  “I’ll tell them only if they ask me if I found anything in the girl’s clothes. If they do, I will have to. I am not allowed to tell lies.”

  The prefect went towards the door, and Mitsi followed her to open it for her. It proved unnecessary. As they reached the top of the steps it swung open. Kőnig was standing on the threshold. In his hand was the key he had used to let himself in. The moment he saw Susanna he froze.

  Abigail was lying! Gina
thought, and was surprised at how much the idea pained her. Abigail had always come to her aid, had even helped her escape, while Susanna had only ever punished her, and now she had told a lie. It upset her so much because for once Susanna had not been making difficulties for her by asking questions. And what a pity she had told her that she was not in love with Kőnig—when he even had a key to her house! This Abigail was incredible. Wasn’t she afraid that Kőnig would betray both her and Mráz, and everyone else? The man was so soft he cried if you shouted at him. That she should be so fond of Kőnig that she could think of him as someone who could come and go in her house at any time of day or night! It was utterly shameful.

  For a few seconds they stood looking at one another in silence. No one moved. At last Kőnig shut the door behind him. His face was scarlet. He was not wearing a hat and his thick, graying hair spilled over his forehead. Susanna had so far kept her eyes on the carpet; now she looked at Mitsi Horn and said, “It’s alright, Mitsi.”

  “What are you doing here?” Kőnig asked her, and stood in her way to stop her leaving. “You can’t go out there now. Someone’s hung another of those placards around the neck of the Kossuth statue. He was seen by the night patrol when he jumped down from the plinth and they shot at him. What on earth made you leave the school? Torma said that only we men should look for Vitay.”

  “I was looking for her too,” Susanna said. “I am her prefect. Please stand aside, I can’t bear to be with you a minute longer. Stand aside, I say!”

  “No.”

  “For God’s sake, let me out!”

  And she began to sob like a child. Mitsi Horn shrugged, felt around in her pocket, took out a cigarette case and lit up. Kőnig did not move, but Gina saw him asking her something with his eyes. She gestured with her chin towards the stairs and then the drawing room, and a wave of fear passed through Gina. Now he knew everything. She had told him there were other people in the house, including her. “In that case it’s of no consequence,” he said. He took the cigarette from Mitsi and inhaled. Before anything more could be said the doorbell rang again. Oh my God! thought Gina. What if it’s Feri? What will become of me if they find me? And not only me, all of us. Including Abigail, who has been hiding me.

  “Open the door,” Kőnig said to Mitsi.

  She went down the two steps and opened it. Soldiers burst in. Their leader was not Feri. It was an older man, of lower rank, an acting corporal in the reserves.

  “I am sorry to disturb you, madam, but, with your permission I shall have to search this house. My colleagues saw a man running away after tying one of those cowardly placards on the Kossuth statue outside the station. It’s our job to protect that monument. We nearly caught him, but we lost a few minutes and he got away. He ran off down this street. We heard his footsteps for a few seconds and then they faded away. He must have taken refuge somewhere close by, in one of the houses on this street. Do you mind if we look around?”

  “Not in the least,” Mitsi said with a smile. “It’s no trouble at all. No one has come here. Mr. Kőnig the teacher, Sister Susanna his colleague and I have been standing in this hallway for some time, talking and commiserating with one another. They are looking for someone too: a girl has disappeared from the Matula. You didn’t happen to see a girl in Matula uniform on your way here?”

  “Only the man who ran this way,” the Corporal said. “How long have you been here, Sister?”

  “At least fifteen minutes,” Susanna whispered.

  “And the teacher?”

  She was silent for a moment, then replied: “He came with me.”

  “And you were all here in the hall? Standing talking, next to the door?”

  “Right here,” Susanna said.

  “We noticed a large window in the cellar. May we go down?”

  “But of course,” Mitsi replied. She went to the top of the stairs and called down: “Auntie Róza, you mustn’t be worried, but some soldiers have come to visit us. They’re looking for someone. If they ask to see inside your room you must let them in.”

  Susanna leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Kőnig yawned; he seemed suddenly very tired. Gina could not see Mitsi Horn’s face, only her back and the nape of her neck. Her heart was pounding. What will happen to me when they come upstairs? What will I tell them? What shall I do? Save me, Abigail!

  The soldiers were soon back from the cellar. They reported that there was no one down there, just an old woman who was getting out of bed. But the Corporal showed no signs of wanting to leave.

  “I do apologize, but we will also have to inspect the attic and the other rooms. The person we are looking for is a tall, fair-haired man, like the teacher here who came with the sister.”

  “Do whatever you wish,” she reassured them. “You will find my brother-in-law in the dining room, having his supper, but he is rather short and his hair is dark, not fair. On the upper floor you will find another deaconess. Sister,” she called out, “did you hear that? There’s no need to be shy; come down from your room. These gentlemen have to check all our guests. I promise they won’t try to flirt with you!”

  “Excuse me!” the Corporal said. He was visibly offended. “With a deaconess! I would be ashamed. What is she doing up there?”

  The question was addressed to Susanna. She licked her lips. I must never tell a lie, a voice from the past whispered in Gina’s ear. Now it really is all over! she thought. Susanna will never tell a lie, for any reason.

  “She went up to rest,” the Deaconess whispered. “She is very young. She finds the long hours hard to cope with.”

  Gina stepped forward and stood in the doorway. Everyone turned to look at her. Good God, the Corporal said to himself. She’s almost a child. What sort of person would make her wear that hideous black uniform? He was no happier with the brother-in-law. The gentleman was in the middle of his supper, accompanied by a large bottle of cognac, and wearing what appeared to be a silk housecoat—and as if that were not already absurd enough for a grown man, you might have mistaken it for a negligée. But he was undoubtedly short and dark-haired, and not in the least like the man they had shot at.

  He took his leave and went off with his men. Gina heard him knocking on the next house as vigorously as he had on Mitsi’s. As he watched them go Kőnig said that there were soldiers outside all the neighboring houses and at the crossroads. Her sense of relief made Gina almost too weak to stand.

  But no one was interested in her. Kőnig and Mitsi were looking at Susanna, and, strangely enough, both had the same expression on their faces, at once amused and profoundly touched.

  “Welcome to the club,” Mitsi said to her, though it made no sense to Gina at the time. “It took you a while, but you got there in the end. You’re in it up to your neck now, and he won’t have any more dark secrets to tell you when you are married.”

  Susanna was trembling so violently that even Gina could see it from her position behind the door to the attic. Mráz pulled on his coat and joined the other three in the hallway, with a full glass in his hand. Kőnig took it and gave it to Susanna to drink. She took a sip and immediately spluttered.

  “It’s a good cognac,” Mráz said. “It goes down especially well when you’ve told a lie. That’s something for you to mention at your next holy communion. I’m sure when you get back to the Matula you’ll wash your mouth out for taking the Lord’s name in vain. I just hope those virtuous people don’t smell your breath before you do, or they’ll faint.”

  “Come,” Mitsi said quietly, and took both him and the bottle into the drawing room, shutting the door behind them. Gina now felt she should follow Abigail’s example and leave, but she could not bear to: it was all so beautiful, so wonderful and so moving. Susanna loved her so much that she had told a lie to save her and not betray her. The prefect clearly had no sense of time—Kőnig had arrived barely a minute before the soldiers, and he certainly had not come with her—but it really didn’t matter. The important thing was that she had not given her away.
Good, kind Susanna! But neither of them seemed to see her; they were not interested in her now. They had eyes only for each other.

  “I knew about half of it,” Susanna said, in a voice Gina simply did not recognize. She had never imagined that the prefect could speak that way. “And for many long years. It was obvious that someone was operating secretly inside our walls, and whenever that person acted the tears stopped. I’ve known that much for a very long time.”

  She was speaking about Abigail, about Mitsi Horn.

  “And now you know the other half,” Kőnig replied. “That side of it began as a game played with your sacred rules and restrictions. It started in my first year as a teacher. I was twenty-two, and it was my first job. Mitsi was then in the eighth year, and she kept begging the statue to help her. She was desperate. Abigail was her idea and it deserved to be made a reality. Later, of course, her field of action went beyond the needs of the girls, and the risk involved a great deal more than upsetting Gedeon Torma. Sister Susanna was not let into the secret because Abigail loved her far too much and had done so for far too long. She was afraid to put her in the same danger, and afraid too of her own feelings. Why did you think I came here tonight?”

  Susanna looked down at her feet and made no reply.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself. You will have to do penance for the rest of your life.” He gazed at her for a moment, then went on, “Since neither of us has managed to find Georgina Vitay here, we should be on our way. Sister Susanna, I shall escort you back to the Matula. Goodbye, Mitsi.”

  Mitsi had returned with Mráz. He was now properly dressed and wearing a tie. He too was about to leave.

  “We’ll go part of the way together,” he said. “We’ve all three of us been through their checks. I’ll come back tomorrow evening with the Wallner girl’s clothes.”

  “Quick, Vitay,” Mitsi called out. “Take the Sister’s gown off, she wants to take it back with her. My dressing gown is on the bed. Put it on quickly, then come and say goodbye to her and to your teacher.”