On the wooden pavement of the chain-bridge the sound of the wheels became soft. The bridge swayed gently, in unison with the river as if it had petrified over the Danube out of the elements of the water and recalled its origin. Anne had the feeling that the bridge and the river were but one and that the carriage was floating. Before her eyes the sun played on the iron supports of the bridge as if they were the strings of a giant harp. The sky looked ever so high and blue over the castle hill. Beyond, on the old battlefield, dense grass had grown out of the many deaths. Behind the acacia trees little double-windowed middle-class houses were visible: arched green gates, steep roofs, touching one another.
“How small everything is here....”
John Hubert looked up.
“One day a city may rise here too. Pest was not even as big as this when your grandfather settled in it.”
In front of the carriage the geese fled with much gabbling in all directions. Dogs barked. At the Devil’s ditch a shepherd played the flute.
Anne looked about bewildered, thinking of an old toy of hers. The toy was a farm. The goodwife was taller than the stable and stood on a round disc. Trees, geese and the gooseherd all had round foundations. Instinctively she looked at the shepherd’s feet and then laughed aloud. The whole place seemed unreal to her.
Farther on in Christina-town the houses separated. They stood alone, broad, gaudy, like peasant women, surrounded by kitchen gardens.
At the communal farm, they left the carriage. They continued on foot towards the military cemetery. The citizens of Buda had buried Uncle Sebastian there.
“Why?” asked Anne. “He was not a soldier.”
“But he was a hero,” answered John Hubert, though he had never been quite able to understand Uncle Sebastian’s death. His father kept silence about the details. On the other hand, the citizens in the castle told confused stories of great deeds. He liked to believe what they said because it flattered him. And whenever the exploits of the clockmaker were mentioned, he observed modestly, but with satisfaction, that the hero was one of his close relations. He grew used to the honour thrust on him. He bore it with erected head as he wore his high collars.