Free Journey by Moonlight by Antal Szerb

starve for days, and then she has attacks of hyper-acidity, which in turn are bad for her nerves. It occurred to me that perhaps the fact that you (touch wood!) have such a good appetite might encourage her to eat. I myself, sorry to say, am just an old man with a weak stomach, and could never set her a good example.
    2 Take special care over her manicurists. If she requires their services while you are travelling, make it your personal business and use only the best establishments. Ask the hotel porter for details. Erzsi is extremely sensitive, and it has happened more than once that her fingers have gone septic because of an unskilled practitioner. Which you certainly wouldn’t want.
    3 Don’t let her get up too early. I know that on one’s travels there is strong temptation to do that sort of thing. When we were last in Italy I made this mistake myself, because in Italy the inter-city coaches leave at the crack of dawn. To hell with the coaches. Erzsi goes to bed late and gets up late. Early rising does her no good—she takes days to get over it.
    4 Don’t let her eat scampi, frutti di mare , or any other disgusting sea creature—they give her a rash.
    5 A rather delicate matter. I don’t know how to put this. Perhaps I should just assume you’re aware of it, but I really don’t know if such an absentminded , philosophical sort of person is aware of such things as the incredible frailty of women, and how much they are at the mercy of certain physical functions. But I beg you to take careful note of Erzsi’s times of the month. A week before the onset you must be patient and tolerant in the extreme. At such times she is not fully responsible. She will pick quarrels. The wisest course is to stand your ground. It gives her an outlet for her irritation. But you mustn’t quarrel in earnest. Remember, it’s just a physiological function you’re dealing with. Don’t get carried away, and don’t say anything you might later regret. Above all, don’t let Erzsi say anything that she might later regret, as that’s no good for her nerves.
    Now, don’t be offended. There are a thousand things I should write about—a thousand little details for you to attend to—these are just the most important—but I can’t at this moment think of them. I really lack imagination. All the same, still in confidence, I am extremely worried, not only because I know Erzsi, but, more to the point, because I know you. Now please don’t get me wrong. If I were a woman, and had to choose between the two of us, I too would have chosen you without hesitation, and Erzsi surely loves you for being just the sort of person you are—so utterly withdrawn and abstracted that you have no real relationship with anybody or anything, like someone from another planet, a Martian on Earth, someone who never really notices anything, who cannot feel real anger about anything, who never pays proper attention when others speak, who often seems to act out of vague goodwill and politeness as if just playing at being human. Now, this is all very well, and I too would appreciate it if I were a woman. The only problem is, you are now Erzsi’s husband. And Erzsi is used to a husband who looks after her in every detail, shielding her from the very wind, leaving her nothing to think of but her mind, her inner life, and, by no means least, care of her person. Erzsi is by nature a lady of leisure. That’s how they brought her up at home, and I respected it—and I don’t know if, being with you, she will now have to face up to the realities her father and I carefully protected her from.
    There is another delicate matter I have to touch upon. I realise that you (or rather your father whose firm you work for) are well off, and your wife will lack for nothing. But I do sometimes worry, because I know how pampered Erzsi has been, and I fear that someone as absent-minded as you might not take proper account of her needs. Your own nature is that of an amiable bohemian,