Gratitude by Joseph Kertes Page B

Paul ran to fetch the young girl. He lifted her up and carried her carefully. He laid her across the back seat of the cab.
    Within a quarter of an hour, the girl was in a hospital. That night, Paul returned. The girl’s appendix was floating in a bottle beside her. It was not until then that Paul learned her name, Lili, and found out what had happened to her, though she left out the part about the horses.
    Lili was encouraged by the many questions Paul asked.
    “My dress,” she said. She was wearing a hospital gown.
    “It’s been sent out to be cleaned,” Paul said. “Poor thing. I didn’t know whether you were going to make it. I’m glad I got you here in time. My Uncle Robert did the surgery.” Paul pointed to the bottle on the sill.
    “Oh,” she said. “He’s a surgeon?”
    “Yes, he’s chief of surgery here, actually.”
    “Maybe my father knew him. My father would come to conferences here in Budapest.”
    “Maybe.”
    “Your name is Paul?” she asked.
    Before he was able to answer, the doctor stepped in. “Yes, Paul, with a u ,” the doctor said. “He came back to us from England as Paul, and we don’t know where the original young man got to.”
    “And this is my Uncle Robert,” Paul said.
    “Thank you for what you did,” Lili said. She smiled for the first time.
    “I’m sorry I had to leave you here this afternoon,” Paul said. He stood looming over the bed. “I had to get to my office to make calls. I—”
    “What sort of office?” she asked eagerly.
    “I’m a lawyer. Or at least I was .”
    “My family’s been taken,” she began again. It might have been the remnants of the anaesthetic. She tried to sit up but winced. Robert eased her back down. “Near the southern border. In Tolgy. Do you know it?”
    “I’m sorry, I don’t,” Paul said.
    Paul looked at his uncle. He saw alarm in the older man’s face and then felt it himself. How could it not reach them, Robert thought.
    “Can you do something?” Lili asked. “Please.” She tried to sit up again, but Robert kept a firm hand on her shoulder.
    “I can petition,” Paul said, “but I’m concerned about my brother in Szeged, too, I’m afraid, a dentist—that was another reason I had to make calls.”
    “And your father,” Robert put in.
    Paul sat on the corner of the bed. “Yes, my father.” His voice hitched. “Uncle Robert,” he began, “I can’t get hold of anyone in Szeged. I tried all afternoon. My assistant, Viktor, sent a telegram. Zoli, a reporter friend, can’t reach an acquaintance at the paper there.”
    “What’s happened to them?” Robert said as he sat down opposite his nephew on Lili’s bed. “The cancer has spread finally to Hungary. How could we have believed it wouldn’t? Poor Heinrich. Poor Istvan. If this girl’s family is any indication, I…”
    Lili was crying. Paul got to his feet and handed her his handkerchief. “I’ll go to Szeged.”
    Robert stood too. “Why would you do such a thing?”
    “They took everyone in my town,” Lili said. “I was the only one left.”
    “It’s not as simple in Szeged,” Paul said. “And even more complicated here. I have to get to my family and help them out.”
    “Please, Paul. Don’t be foolish. If anyone can do anything, Heinrich can.”
    “I don’t know about his influence anymore,” Paul said, “but I’ll find out more before I go. I promise.”

    WHEN ZOLI GOT HOME , he was eager to tell his parents about the lovely girl he’d met. He couldn’t stop thinking about Rozsi. He’d been seeing someone else, Margit Berg, until just months before, but Margit kept comparing him with other young men. She admired Laszlo Szent, an engineer friend they shared, who’d help draw up new designs to reinforce the Chain Bridge. She never missed an opportunity to tell Zoli how much she respected Szent, even as Zoli took her hand and strolled out on the bridge with her to admire the lights. Margit also insisted they catch every fencing