A sigh escaped her, and she took a cough lozenge from the sweet dish. Madame Verstraeten glanced at her from the corner of her eye, but made no comment, for she knew that Lili, in her irritable condition, would only huff at expressions of maternal solicitude.
The afternoon wore on slowly, without any callers to relieve either the general tedium or Lili’s glum, taciturn mood, until it was past four o’clock and the doorbell sounded. A moment later Georges de Woude appeared, and again Lili was annoyed, this time because Dien had not thought to announce him first before ushering him into the salon — it wasn’t as if Georges was a close friend of the family, after all. While he shook hands with her mother, she greeted him somewhat coolly with a lethargic wave of her hand, and was in no hurry to follow when her mother led him to the conservatory to meet her father. Only when they were all three seated did Lili come over, pulling up a cane chair with some deliberation, as if to say she was not particularly pleased to see him and was only joining them because it would be impolite not to do so. At the first words he addressed to her parents she looked away, pretending that the garden held more interest for her than their conversation. Madame Verstraeten asked him about Berlin, where he had been posted for three months, but he answered hurriedly, half-turning to Lili, and proceeded to enquire after her health; had she been seriously ill? Lili murmured dismissively, leaving her mama to reply in more detail, but it struck her that he had put his question with a certain anxiety, not formally at all, but in a tone of genuine concern for her welfare. What could it matter to him whether she was ill or not? But he did not appear to notice her coolness, and pursued his lively account of life in Berlin while responding in his usual agreeable manner to his hosts’ interjections. He kept glancing at Lili, as though wishing to draw her into the conversation, and out of courtesy she gave a slight smile now and then, or put an idle question. What a chatterbox he was, she thought, recalling earlier occasions when she had found his talk annoying. The next instant she felt she was being unfair. He was very talkative, it was true, but his conversation was amiable and sociable, and an undeniably welcome diversion after a tedious afternoon spent watching her mother work her crochet needle. His locution was not bad, a bit rushed perhaps, but not boring, and, now that she came to think of it, not at all affected, either. His accent was perhaps a trifle too studied, but that was all; his gestures were simple, and his well-mannered voice had a pleasantly sincere ring. As for his dress, it was very neat, almost too neat, really, but at least it wasn’t loud; she had to give him that.
He chatted on in response to Mr Verstraeten’s queries concerning his position, and while observing him she unwittingly brightened her smile, which did not escape his notice, so that he ventured to return to his earlier question: was she feeling better, would she soon be sufficiently recovered to go out? What could it matter to him, she thought again, almost crossly; he had already asked after her health before — out of politeness, to be sure. All the same, this time she answered him herself, saying that she was no longer coughing — her words were promptly belied by a short cough — and that she was feeling very much better thanks to the good care of Mama and Marie. He was glad to hear it, he said, but he had noted the rasping in her throat and was about to advise her to stay indoors while the cold weather lasted when he thought better of it. She might think him too forward, so he asked after Marie instead.
‘Oh, she is very well,’ replied Lili. ‘She has gone skating with Frédérique and Etienne and Paul. Don’t you feel sorry for me, having to stay at home again, all by myself?’
‘Is it such a great disappointment to you? Are you fond of skating?’
‘Yes, that’s to say, I do enjoy it, but I’m not very good at it, to be honest. Marie and Freddie are much better skaters, they go whirling about while I just wobble; I’m too frightened, you see.’
‘What about Paul and Etienne, don’t they help you?’
‘Oh, Paul just says it’s no fun skating with someone who can’t skate properly, and Etienne, well, he sometimes puts up with me for five minutes.’
‘But Lili, if you can’t skate it’s not very enjoyable for the others, is it?’ objected her mother.
‘I believe I was more gallant in my day,’ observed her father.
‘Oh, I’m not accusing them of anything, just stating a fact!’ said Lili, and she coughed again.
‘But once you are fully recovered, when you are well enough to go out,’ Georges resumed, waveringly, for he knew he was taking a chance, ‘might I offer you some assistance on the ice one day? I am mostly in my office, but—’
‘You skate, then?’ cried Lili. She would never have thought it of him.
‘Oh yes, I’m a keen skater!’ he said. ‘Do you accept?’
She almost blushed as she smiled and lowered her eyes.
‘Oh, with pleasure, yes indeed. But I shall be a dreadful burden to you. I’m always frightened, always hearing the ice crack beneath me. I’m afraid you don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for.’
‘Oh yes I do,’ he retorted. ‘I am sure I shall never regret having asked you.’
Lili was impressed by how warm and sincere he sounded, and could think of nothing to say, so she merely smiled. There was a brief lull in the conversation, and under normal circumstances this would have prompted Georges to take his leave, but instead he stayed, broached a new topic as if he had all the time in the world, and kept up his flow of words until Lili’s brother Jan came home from school with his books tucked under his arm, by which hour it was already getting dark. Georges stood up at last, with apologies for outstaying his welcome.
‘Not at all, quite the contrary!’ said Mr Verstraeten. ‘It has been a pleasure to see you again. Remember me to your father and that delightful sister of yours.’
‘Emilie said she couldn’t manage without you!’ added Madame Verstraeten. ‘She must be very glad to have you back again.’
Lili found herself thinking that yes, she could see why Emilie would miss Georges’ company, and she held out her hand with a flourish and thanked him again for his invitation.
‘Good fellow, young De Woude!’ said Mr Verstraeten when Georges had left. Lili returned to the drawing room just as she overheard her Mama agreeing that he was indeed a very personable young man.
‘He calls quite regularly these days. But I dare say we wouldn’t see so much of him if it weren’t for the girls.’
Lili heard no more; she smiled at her own fancy, for she could see herself with Georges, gliding on the ice, their arms crossed and hands joined.
. .
Marie came home escorted by Freddie, Paul and Etienne, who took their leave at the door. She was tired out and cold, with red cheeks and shining eyes. It had been splendid, they had seen many friends on the ice, including the Eekhof girls and Eline, who had come with Henk.
‘De Woude called earlier,’ remarked Madame Verstraeten. ‘He has been back for three days.’
‘Oh, really?’ said Marie carelessly, and began to unfasten her short coat.
‘And he invited me to go skating with him, as soon as I’m better,’ confided Lili, almost bashfully. She gave a slight cough.
Marie stared at her sister in astonishment.
‘De Woude? With you? And what did you say?’
‘That it was very kind of him, of course. What else was I supposed to say?’
Marie laughed outright.
‘You going skating with De Woude? Lili, how could you? I thought you said he was a boring prig, and that you couldn’t stand him.’
‘Well, he said he’d help me with my skating. At least he’s more gallant than Paul and Etienne.’