“Erzsi, this is János Szepetneki, my old classmate, who … I don’t think … I ever mentioned.” And he blushed scarlet.

János looked Erzsi up and down with undisguised hostility, bowed, shook her hand, and thereafter totally ignored her presence. Indeed, he said nothing at all, except to order lemonade.

Eventually Mihály broke the silence:

“Well, say something. You must have some reason for trying to find me here in Italy.”

“I’ll tell you. I mainly wanted to see you because I heard you were married.”

“I thought you were still angry with me. The last time we met was in London, at the Hungarian legation, and then you walked out of the room. But of course you’ve no reason to be angry now,” he went on when János failed to reply. “One grows up. We all grow up, and you forget why you were offended with someone for ten years.”

“You talk as if you know why I was angry with you.”

“But of course I know,” Mihály blurted out, and blushed again.

“If you know, say it,” Szepetneki said aggressively.

“I’d rather not here … in front of my wife.”

“It doesn’t bother me. Just have the courage to say it. What do you think was the reason I wouldn’t speak to you in London?”

“Because it occurred to me there had been a time when I thought you had stolen my gold watch. Since then I’ve found out who took it.”

“You see what an ass you are. I was the one who stole your watch.”

“So it was you who took it?”

“It was.”

Erzsi during all this had been fidgeting restlessly in her chair. From experience she had been aware for some time, looking at János’s face and hands, that he was just the sort of person to steal a gold watch every now and then. She nervously drew her reticule towards her. In it were the passports and traveller’s cheques. She was astonished, and dismayed, that the otherwise so diplomatic Mihály should have brought up this watch business, but what was really unendurable was the silence in which they sat, the silence when one man tells another that he stole his gold watch and then neither says a word. She stood up and announced:

“I’m going back to the hotel. Your topics of conversation, gentlemen, are such that … ”

Mihály looked at her in exasperation.

“Just stay here. Now that you’re my wife this is your business too.” And with that he turned to János Szepetneki and positively shouted: “But then why wouldn’t you shake hands with me in London?”

“You know very well why. If you didn’t know you wouldn’t be in such a temper now. But you know I was in the right.”

“Speak plainly, will you?”

“You’re just as clever at not understanding people as you are at not finding, and not looking for, people who have gone out of your life. That’s why I was angry with you.”

Mihály was silent for a while.

“Well, if you wanted to meet me … we did meet in London.”

“Yes, but by chance. That doesn’t count. Especially as you know perfectly well we’re not talking about me.”

“If we’re talking about someone else … it would have been no use looking for them.”

“So you didn’t try, right? Even though perhaps all you had to do was stretch out your hand. But now you’ve another chance. Listen to this. I think I’ve traced Ervin.”

Mihály’s face changed instantly. Rage and shock gave way to delighted curiosity.

“You don’t say! Where is he?”

“Exactly where, I’m not sure. But he is in Italy, in Tuscany or Umbria, in some monastery. I saw him in Rome, with a lot of monks in a procession.