Sometimes, a novel can communicate more with the stories it chooses not to tell, rather than with the ones it does tell. In Sandor Marai's moody, claustrophobic drama, Embers, this is the case of Henrik's wife, Krisztina, a woman who is already long dead at the beginning of the novel. Although essential to the narrative structure and to a third of the original hunting party, Marai makes the character of Krisztina a real cipher. Her character is initially simply defined as “the new countess” (11); his name is only mentioned, entire chapters later, through conversational references (71). Her first characteristic to reveal: she was passionate about crayfish (71). Krisztina's minimalist development, however, is anything but banal. While subtle, it is nevertheless central to the play's overarching themes of emotional abandonment, the suffocation of the social order, and the true cost of honor. Cursed to love men too proud to even love themselves, the woman's short and tragic life is reflected in the text by the perpetual shadow cast on the characters who survive her. Leaving a primary perspective vacant in the novel, Marai models Krizstina as the embodiment of loss caused by systemic emotional neglect, a collective social fate in which prideful misunderstandings, prejudices, and inequalities of honor deprive individuals of their very identity. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an Original Essay Though faint and sparse, Krisztina's voice echoes harmfully from the pages of the novel. In a memoir by Nini, a devoted caretaker, a first glimpse into her suffocating world is provided: "There is something I have to tell you. Krisztina was dying and called you." “Yes,” said the general. “I was there.” "You were there and yet you were not there. You were so far away that you seemed to be on a journey. You were in your room, and she was dying alone with me, around dawn for you. I say this so you know tonight. The general did not she said nothing. (74) Marai does not reveal her exact dying words; even in her final moments, Krisztina is condemned to always speak through others. Underestimated by the domestic context of preparing the dinner, the extent of Henrik's cruelty in those final moments moments he is obscene virtual devil, but with a stiff upper lip, Henrik's behavior symbolizes a social code that has no empathy for those perceived as wrong In the opulent and ruthless world of the aristocracy, rights subjugate humanity for the small transgression of youthful infidelity, Krisztina is literally destined to die alone, starving for love, respect and anything but the most superficial company. Her pain as a human being is not seen as such, neither by her culture nor by her husband of an unfaithful woman, a fate that has been duly earned by his transgressions. To seek justice in such an unforgiving morality is to find only the enormous wastes of its victims' lives, a void encapsulated by the General's inability to even give. the weakest of answers. Once freed from the schnapps, however, the general finally finds the mind to clarify Krisztina's life, lighting a small but constant flame against the darkness of her death. He recalls, “She was like an animal…underneath she was wild and untamable” (175). Although spoken of with affection, this memory contains a thread of bitter irony. This spark of life, this display of convention, is exactly what Henrik is unable to deal with, shattering completely after learning of her love affair with Konrad. Unquestionably desirable, Krisztina was desired in others' terms; and although to a certain.