They Were Divided Read Online Free Page A

said:
    ‘Do you know what this chapel means to me? I love it as if it were a living human being, not only because of its beauty but also because of so many things that have happened to me within its walls.’
    He explained that it was at Jablanka that he had started his professional career, as tutor to Count Antal Szent-Gyorgyi. Later, after several years spent in Rome, he had returned as the castle’s resident priest; though he had never accepted any parish of his own even though the Count was patron of several rich livings and pressed him to take the best of them. He told Balint that he had preferred to remain quietly where he was and continue his studies in canon law.
    Then he gave an especially sweet smile and went on:
    ‘I have another very dear memory. It was in this church that I officiated at the wedding of Count Antal’s other sister, the Countess Charlotte who married a Swede, Count Olaf Loewenstierna.’ As he said these words Pfaffulus’s thin pointed nose seemed to grow even longer and he raised his eyebrows expressively. ‘It was very bold on my part, as the bridegroom, of course, was a Protestant and I should not really have performedthe ceremony without the promise that the children should be brought up as Catholics. But what could I do? The old Count gave his orders and said that one could not ask such a thing of a Loewenstierna, who was descended from one of Gustavus Adolphus’s generals; and anyway he would despise the young man if he abandoned his family traditions. If he, as a good Catholic father, did not demand it, then I should not either. Naturally I did as he wished.’
    Here the round little priest had leaned forward and spoken confidentially into Balint’s ear.
    ‘Of course I had committed a fault; even perhaps a sin, yes, a sin. And yet it was my sin, and mine alone, because in such circumstances only the priest can be at fault. I went straight afterwards to see the Prince-Cardinal. It was then Monsignor Simor. To him I confessed my fault, my crime. I knelt before him and he gave me a thorough scolding and some pretty harsh penances with which to atone for my lapse. Then he invited me to eat with him. Afterwards he had said: “You were wise, my son, not to ask for guidance because no permission would ever have been given. Yes, you did the wise, the clever thing. The family of Szent-Gyorgyi have done much for our church for several centuries and so they fall into a very special category. I am sure that this is how the Roman Curia would regard the matter too.”’
    Czibulka had then fallen silent, gazing ahead as if conscious only of his own memories. Then he had got up and looked at Abady as if excusing himself for having burdened the young man with such personal reminiscences.
    ‘You must forgive my idle chatter,’ he said. ‘I seem to have gone on at length about things which only concern myself. But this chapel, you see, means so much to me.’
    Then he had made another quick genuflection towards the altar, switched out the lights, and escorted Balint out of the chapel . They walked back together to the drawing-room where everyone was gathering for tea.

    They had thought of every way to encourage and reassure him, and so everything had depended on him and on him alone. And then he had let the moment pass and so thrown away his chances, if not of love then at least of a kind and loving wife, of a family, and of a nest to come home to.
    It had been on the last evening of his stay that he had let the final opportunity escape him.
    He had dressed for dinner early and when he had entered the drawing-room he had found it deserted. Then, through the open doors to the library, he had seen Lili, who for some reason of her own had also dressed before the others. She had been kneeling on a chair drawn up to a long table in the centre of the room, leaning forward with her bare elbows reflected on the polished wooden table top as she turned the pages of a large album of engravings. She had