The peasant proprietor is ruined and the best he can hope for is to become a tied worker on what used to be his own land. There are thus two major effects: human rights are violated and political resentment is fostered. And who are these “men of confidence”? They are the Hungarian notary, the Hungarian bailiff, and the Hungarian judge. All the poor Romanian peasant can grasp is that the very men who should be his protectors against injustice are the same men who enforce that injustice! Can anyone wonder that he considers these men as much his enemies as their intermediaries who have furnished these monstrous loans? Can anyone wonder at the sense of injustice felt by the hard-pressed borrower and the dispossessed small farmer when at the mercy of the very men whose authority they are forced to accept? This state of things is endemic in the poorer regions. It is a carefully planned operation which is swiftly moving our under-privileged minorities into dependency while at the same time building up rich and powerful estates who owe their existence to Romania.’

The House listened in bored indifference until Balint had felt that everything he was saying was futile and devoid of interest or significance. He also had an uneasy feeling that he was not presenting his case sufficiently well, that his voice was monotonous, his manner dull. Only the Romanian members paid any attention and they, shrugging their shoulders at everything he said, showed clearly that they did not believe a word of it, that it was all untrue and the product of an overworked imagination.

Of all his hearers, only old Timisan gave the impression of really listening to what Balint said. He leant forward, one hand cupped to an ear, clearly intent on not missing a word. Under his bushy white eyebrows his watching eyes were full of suspicion as he took in every sentence. He was waiting to see if Balint would mention his name.

The reason for this was that Timisan had been the man from whom Balint had learned all about the Romanian bank’s carefully laid plans, about the systematic policy they had been employing. This had been when Balint, a year and a half before, had gone to seek his advice when he had found out how some of the former Abady dependants were being ruined in this way.

Balint never referred to Timisan by name. To do so would have caused a sensation but he refrained, speaking only in general terms and not revealing his sources.

When Balint had finished explaining the situation and had begun to suggest ways of putting matters right Timisan’s obvious interest vanished. Now Balint proposed co-operative societies as an antidote to the individual peasant’s dependence on bank loans. He said that such co-operatives should group together people of the same region regardless of race or religion, that smaller centres should be established where the population was sparser, that teachers and trained accounting clerks should be posted to country districts and that bigger credits, at lower interest rates, should be available to the communities. He also proposed that free legal aid should be given to those who were already entangled in the money-lenders’ clutches.

Carried away by his own enthusiasm Balint spoke warmly and urgently, with colourful phrases that reflected his perennial urge to help others. Even so there was very little applause when he sat down and the next speaker was called upon to rise.

Balint gathered together his notes and left the Chamber. At the end of the corridor he was met by Timisan.

‘My congratulations on your Lordship’s maiden speech!’ he said, holding out his hand. Then, smiling slyly under his grey moustache, he said, ‘Do you remember when you honoured me with your visit? Was I not right? Now you can see for yourself: the Hungarians are too busy with other things to bother with such matters!’

He turned to go. Then, looking back over his shoulder, as if it were an afterthought, he said, ‘It was kind of you not to have mentioned my name! Thank you!’

Then the old man stumped heavily back into the Chamber.

The Spring was so beautiful in the forest that gradually these disagreeable memories faded from Balint’s mind. His footsteps made no sound as he walked slowly over the carpet of fallen leaves now softened by the melting of winter snow. Tiny bell-like flowers glistened on the red-brown loam that lay below the giant beeches whose pale grey trunks towered high above him. In the clearings between the trees cornelian-coloured cherries were in bloom and the hazel bushes were tasselled with catkins. Orange-red ‘Bleeding Hearts’ glowed beneath the white stars of blackthorn and here and there wild cherries were festooned with cream-coloured bouquets.