The Diary of Geza Csath Page 5

  We were also involved in an unpleasant incident. In the grass, I discovered a gigantic horse skull. I was very pleased to find it, because it was pure white. The worms had cleaned it impeccably. We tied it onto my stick, and to make it easy to find for the servant we intended to send for it, we took the skull to the little gazebo in the wood. There, however, a horrid, unfamiliar woman who looked to be the wife of an artisan protested against the skull being left there. She even wanted to give me a lesson in decorum: ‘I’m astonished that, as a doctor…!’, etc.

  That made me lose my equanimity.

  ‘Refrain from being astonished and giving me lessons in manners. I take exception to you daring to criticize me in any way. Where is a male relative of yours, so that I may demand satisfaction on account of your behaviour?’

  ‘I am Mrs Fekete, and that’s my husband coming over there.’

  Mr Fekete, a haggard, big-nosed, pathetic old dentist arrived. We already knew each other. Now I knew why the repulsive, blue-eyed, blonde-haired, servant-like wife of his was so up in arms. I had met her too, but as I did not remember the meeting, I hadn’t greeted her. Most likely Olga’s beauty, her youth, and our happiness also provoked the envy and vexation of Mrs Fekete’s base spirit. I got nowhere with the dentist Fekete so I left not knowing what to do. It was clearly ridiculous to ask for satisfaction from that pitiful figure.

  11. „Where are you going?“ „Upstairs, to see Mama!“ „Wait a minute, please.“

  In the evening I discussed the matter with Nozroviczky, the honorary chief magistrate, and as Mrs Fekete had even used the expression this lady, we decided in favour of the challenge. The next day Fekete apologized to my seconds and I locked the official report in my desk.

  Olga and I walked until nightfall. We were only apart an hour and a half, while I had my afternoon office hours. During this time I received a letter from Mrs G (I will speak of her later) asking for a rendezvous that evening. I responded that I would go if at all possible – I couldn’t promise because I had guests.

  We encountered Mrs G later the same day, several times, during our walks. Her face showed considerable concern.

  Sandor arrived that night. I had invited him by wire to enlarge our little company, and thus to make the whole affair seem to the women of the baths and to Mrs Braun not like a ‘visit from the fiancé’, but rather a ‘meeting of good friends’. It worked.

  Olga and I did not meet the first night. Her father’s plan to take a room adjoining hers had not succeeded, but caution seemed advisable. Besides, I wanted to arrange the encounter under the stars. Around midnight I descended and knocked quietly – despite the agreement. From inside, all I could hear was the dear girl’s deep breathing. So I went back to my room and was sleeping soundly myself before long.

  We met around nine o’clock in the morning at breakfast. Olga wore a light green raw silk robe, a green silk scarf on her shoulder, a pretty hairdo, she was washed, fresh, young, beautiful – perhaps more than I had ever seen her before! After breakfasting, we left to walk, leaving the father to his own devices on the terrace of the restaurant. We hurried to search for an appropriate spot in the pine forest. Our excitement was already excessive. It was a brilliant, beautiful warm morning, but the grass was still a little dewy. We had to find a place that was protected if possible, where we wouldn’t have to worry about surprises, and where the ground was covered by dry pine needles. It wasn’t easy, because I wasn’t really familiar with the forest. Like the fleeing Walsung offspring, Sigmund, I hurried far ahead, trampling across the fallen pine trunks, while Olga followed me stumbling, scarf on her arm, knees giving way from inner excitement. Finally, we found a place. I spread out the green scarf, she quickly lay down, lifting her skirt. She sensed that our mutual and extreme desire made unnecessary the modesties and protests she otherwise never neglected. Spread out before me were her clean, tight lace pants and her clinging, thigh-high net stockings. Between the stockings and pants there was a two-inch-wide segment of naked thigh. The corset’s tight garters hindered penetration, however. I unfastened them. Then I undid the snow-white pants, and, almost dizzy with pleasure, I caressed the thick, coal-black hair of her little cunt. I lay down on her and embraced her. On account of the great excitement, we had to wait a few moments, but when she tenderly stroked the stallion, it obediently began to rise, and the inhibitions ceased almost entirely after the first

  Forest at Stubnyafurdo

  friction, later disappearing altogether. That embrace in the fragrant pine forest, in the brilliant, sunny morning under the blue-grey sky, was divine pleasure. And perhaps a moral delight too: it was terrible to think that the poor thing might return without us having sacrificed to our love at least once. Slowly, arm in arm, our journey punctuated by kisses, we returned to the baths. To explain our lengthy absence better, we bought potted flowers at the gardener’s and took them home. In this way, we could deflect the father’s attention from Olga’s somewhat wrinkled skirt. We couldn’t use the scarf to cover it: it was soaked with dew and sperm.

  The rest of the morning turned out quite well. While I was in my office, kindly Sandor occupied Olga; and with similar self-sacrifice, he left us alone when I arrived. It occurred to me that I would never be able to give him fitting thanks for this piece of kindness. In the afternoon I apprised my father – who was waiting anxiously for the news – of the chances for the marriage, then Olga and I went to the park again, to roam.

  Tenderness almost overflowed on both sides, and we were both inexhaustible in lyrically recounting episodes of our summer apart. On our first walk, the day before, Olga had already posed the question:

  ‘My dear boy, tell me honestly, did you cheat on me?’

  ‘How can you think such a thing, my child!’ I said, but without truly convincing force.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ she whimpered sweetly, examining my face, ‘I can see you’ve cheated on me. Confess, I forgive you, you’re a man, confess, sweet darling.’

  But I confessed nothing; instead, as she desired, I swore that I had been true to her.

  Olga and her father retired early, so that waking early would not cause difficulties. It seemed her father believed Olga and I wanted to discuss what we would do that night during the proposed ‘partie de lune’, and for that reason he did not agree to the walk. So we separated. I took a long walk with Sandor afterwards, smoking cigarettes and chatting; then, around ten o’clock, we went to lie down. I changed into the tried and tested outfit. Rubber-soled shoes, a loose, soft grey nightshirt (without vest), stockings, and a hat. I left the condom behind but did not forget the Vaseline. Around 11.45, after sneaking down to the first floor making as little noise as possible on the creaking staircase, I first established that Olga’s father was snoring, then knocked on the sweet one’s door. Soon the key clicked, and with weak, pleasurable excitement, I stepped inside. A candle was the only light inside the room. Olga sat on the bed in a thin batiste shirt, which her curves filled out even more than usually. The shoulders consisted of nothing but thin straps. (I liked these shirts of hers very much. Unfortunately, there were only three of them.) She had done her hair again for the occasion. She wore her hair in ‘shells’ on each side; and on top of her head she had smoothed out her hair from the parting. This preparation gave her a sweet, shameless, womanly air. I felt she was like a Renaissance woman. She covered her face with her pretty arms, and the excitement made her stomach convulse. I locked the door and quickly undressed. Soon we sank into a flood of kisses. When she pressed against me lightly in this half naked, nobly stimulating condition, a piercing, warm happiness flooded me. She, poor thing, must have felt something completely different. Her teeth chattered; their rhythmical clattering could be clearly heard; her body trembled and she had goose bumps. I covered the keyhole, laid her down on the couch, and with my magic wand soon released her from the tortures of fear. I felt her become calm in my arms, her skin warmed, her cold trembling stopped completely, giving way to sweet, hot, maddening rapture, t
his most beautiful, most blossoming child of youth and love. Soon we reached the moment of ecstasy. We whispered for five or ten minutes more, promising each other eternal love, then in view of the situation, which was unremittingly worrisome and frightening, I departed. Olga’s father had made significant mention of his ability to wake at night whenever he wanted. I considered the foregoing and my little wife’s need to get her sleep. Thirdly, not being in training, my testes worked more slowly, according to the physiological rule, and I could anticipate another pleasurable copulation only within three-quarters of an hour to an hour hence. Therefore, amidst ardent kisses and hugs, I left the room. Had I availed myself of one or another of the women who offered themselves in the previous weeks and carried out regular daily coitus, I could have caused more numerous transports for my little Olga. Would she have forgiven me, the sweet thing, had I done that in her interests, for her sake and to increase pleasure for both of us? I think not.

  I slept wonderfully until morning, when the porter woke me according to my instructions. I dressed hurriedly so that I could have breakfast with Olga. I found her still in her room, the whole place still full of the scent and memories of the night’s events. During breakfast she sweetly declared that she would stay with me or run away from home and come to me, and her kindness gave me much joy. At the train station, I jumped up onto the carriage after her and covered her with kisses in the narrow corridor. I was downcast afterwards, as I returned to my office with Sandor. We went to the baths shortly thereafter.

  While we bathed, we engaged in much talk about our women, marriage, its likelihood, rules to be followed, etc. We were disturbed by little relatives of Mrs Braun, the landlord, Austrian Jewish girls in tight bathing suits. One of them caught Sandor’s fancy. She was called Frida Steinlich. She had blue eyes, a Greek nose, a large forehead and an outstanding figure, and reminded Sandor of Sophie Tiegarmann, his former love from Ujfured12. I introduced them, but without great results. Because of the girl’s pretentiousness, Sandor was not able to attack. Later, in the last days of the season, I experimented for several whole afternoons with this Frida, out of boredom and in the interests of practising German. I managed to get her to walk far into the woods with me alone, something she was completely unwilling to do at first. I did with her what I did with Szidi, for example, and – what I hold to be quite a good idea with musical Jewish women – I took her to a church and played the organ for her. This pleased her in the sexual sense as well. I also fascinated her as a sorcerer. I declared that I could read her expression and that I knew she had been in love a year and a half ago, been disappointed, and thought back to the affair often, sometimes without any emotion, but sometimes with quite bitter feelings. She was astonished, confessed that everything was true down to the last detail, and maintained that I had

  12. Novy Smokovec

  heard the story from someone. The truth was I hadn’t

  heard the story from someone. The truth was I hadn’t year-old girl even if she was blue-eyed, I deduced that she had already been through it. She swore that no one had ever kissed her. I declared I would be the first. And so it was. The girl didn’t behave warmly or kindly – perhaps she recognized the whole thing was a game to me – so I put an end to the affair. Her cousins told me she cried whole afternoons in her room, but rather than make up with her I ignored her. Later, we were on good terms again for a couple of days, but when I renewed my attack, she reacted in the same way as before. I did not speak to her again. I held her in contempt because I saw that she loved me. Many times she crept to the window when I played the piano and watched me for a long time. If I had supper with company, she watched me from the terrace outside. She and her cousin, Grete Loeff, whose love I had also awakened, spoke only of me. This was confided to me by the chambermaid, who was a witness to their discussions. Nevertheless, I shook Frida’s hand on my departure. Her voice was soft and tearful. She was waiting for some confession, some promise, even the slightest one

  – but she was disappointed. I told her I was sorry we hadn’t been able to understand each other, and that I was sure we would meet again.

  ‘Aber wo, Herr Doktor, aber wo?’ she asked. ‘Irgendwo,’ I answered.13

  I did this with professional enjoyment, and felt great

  satisfaction in being able to take revenge on the species of blue-eyed women, in my own name and, as far as this girl was concerned, in Sandor’s name as well.

  13. “But where, Doctor, where?” “Anywhere.”

  Her cousin, the well turned-out, shapely, petite, Olgafaced, muscular 17-year-old Grete Loeff, had a similarly cautious temperament, though without the blue eyes. A few times, the course of events were such that I gained her confidence, but I could achieve nothing more than kissing her face and neck by force. The girl showered me with insults afterwards, but from her blush, I could tell that in addition to the humiliation she felt some sexual pleasure as well.

  These two girls convinced me that real success and warm kisses were to be had only among refined and mature women. And this view of mine is not altered by the favourable experiences I had that summer with younger girls like Bozsi B., Kitty S., Margit (the little chambermaid), Paula L. (the midwife’s daughter), and Annie Laplace.

  Among these belongs the little fairy tale with Edith G.. She was an enormous 17-year-old, slightly fat, but quite shapely, a brunette with a pink face and brown doe eyes. Her mother, the 135-kilogram widow of an appeals court judge, brought Edith to my office. I removed a grain of soot from the lass’s eye. Then with a little adrenaline, I returned her expanded veins to order, liberating her from hours of suffering in a minute. On one occasion, I began to speak to the girl in the hallway on the second floor. After giving her a few compliments, I took her hand and pulled her close. She laid her head on my shoulder and returned my kiss ardently. I attributed this success purely to my reputation, and I was therefore far from overestimating it. It appears that women and girls suffer equally from the frailty of not being able to resist curiosity if someone’s legend gets into their heads by way of gossip. We kissed a few times more in the hallways during similar accidental meetings. The girl’s quick leading question (‘But you don’t even love me!’), though put with fitting modesty, took away my inclination to court her. Apart from her prettiness and her enormous, blooming, youthful body, only her great sensuality spoke in her favour. But the effect was completely ruined by the provinciality of her manners and intellect, and her unpleasant affectations of gentility. Her reproachful look and rapid weight loss over the next two weeks were clear to see, appropriate punishment for me for the prodigality with which I disturbed the poor child.

  On the same page would be my affair with the landlord’s daughter, the small, shapeless Hilda. She came to my office a couple of times for galvanofaradization. The thickness of her neck and her heart complaints made me suspect early Basedow. She accepted a few kisses from me with pleasure, but when her prettier cousins arrived at the spa, I forgot about her completely. She didn’t mind, because she was still an immature little dolt, incapable of inner emotion. She lacked charm.

  The temperament of the ageing Directrice was all the more fiery. She was a 35-40-year-old divorcée, but allegedly played the coquette in Budapest during the winter. Her manner did not reinforce those rumours, but her facial features did. She had a slightly stubby, thick nose, blue eyes, blonde hair, and a quite beautiful body. One night, when she had an attack of migraine in her room, I examined her. I was enchanted by the youthfulness and beauty of her breasts. She had superb, thick white arms and wonderfully hot, muscular pink lips. On that very night same night she gave me proof that she embraced and kissed masterfully. I renewed the attacks later as opportunity arose, but we never went further. She talked of being faithful; also there was a pharmacist who loved her very much and was courting her for all he was worth. I didn’t want to knock him out of the saddle. (He was a scrawny bespectacled boy, whom Lea tortured like a dog.) Actually, even today I regret that I didn’t knock on her
door one night. I’m quite certain I would have partaken of exceptional pleasures. We parted good friends …

  There were a number of girls and women in whom I recognized willingness, but with whom I did absolutely nothing to exploit the possibilities. Dora J. was the daughter of an undersecretary; her mother was a charming writer with a great past. She interested me very much and was quite friendly to me from the beginning. She came to see me alone during my office hours, had herself examined, had her throat treated along with her alleged toothache … (nota bene, the naughty lass’s parents must not have known a thing about her visits, because I received no fee). Her behaviour was aggressive. She squeezed my hand as if she were holding a phallus, and fixed her hysterical blue eyes on me. Her affected, unprovoked laughter when we were alone also revealed what was happening within her. She had an exquisite figure: thin ankles, huge calves and thighs, a pale sensual face, hysterical, nervous movements. She was so sexually charged that she constantly kissed her little French companion, and as I found out from the French girl, Dora continued and escalated these embraces in bed at night. At these times, Dora and her companion took it in turn to play the male role.