Fortunately it was pleasant everywhere — it was even preferable to sit at some distance from the bandstand because of the noise — so they made their way to the section adjoining the Conversation Room, which was still largely unoccupied. They chose a table at the front, where they could see and be seen by everyone strolling past.
Amid the continuous exchange of little nods and waves of the hand, Betsy and Eline exchanged whispered comments about the risible toilettes and extravagant hats passing by. Eline herself was very satisfied with the unadorned style of dress she had taken to wearing since her engagement, a sophisticated kind of simplicity, so much smarter than her former, more lavish attire, and different enough to attract notice. Simple, well-cut gowns flattered her slim figure and made her feel statuesque, and besides, they gave her an unwonted air of seriousness and modesty, which Otto, being by nature a lover of simplicity rather than ostentation, was bound to find attractive.
This was the person she now was; she knew it was difficult for her simply to be herself, it was easier to slip into a role to suit her mood, and now her role was that of the somewhat mannered but ever alluring and overjoyed fiancée of a suitable young man, someone from her own set, who was generally liked for his agreeable humour and lack of affectation. And overjoyed — that she was, for her heart’s prayer for happiness was being answered — she exulted in the peace bestowed on her by his great, calm love, which she sensed rather than comprehended; she was happy in the blue stillness of that lagoon, that Nirvana, into which her fantasy-ridden soul had slipped as into a bed of eiderdown; she felt so suffused with joy that her nervous tension relaxed, and quite often, to her own surprise, found herself with tears in her eyes out of sheer gratitude.
The stream of promenaders was without end, and she felt quite dazed.
‘Eline, what’s the matter with you? Look, there’s Madame van der Stoor, and little Cateau, too!’ hissed Betsy.
Eline focused her eyes and nodded her head in greeting, as disarmingly as she was able. Then she saw Vincent Vere and Paul van Raat, who were coming towards their table. They remained standing, leaning on their canes, as there were no vacant chairs in the vicinity.
‘Would you two care to sit down a moment — that is, if Eline would care to take a turn with me?’ asked Otto, half-rising.
Eline thought it an excellent idea, and while Vincent and Paul sat down with Henk and Betsy, she and Otto joined the meandering flow. They were approaching the bandstand, around which a semicircle of avid listeners had gathered, and they heard the crystal-clear high notes of the Lohengrin overture swelling from the violins while the conductor, standing with his back to them, controlled the rise and fall of the music with waves of his baton. When Otto guided Eline to the narrow aisle between the occupied chairs and the music lovers, she held back, whispering:
‘Let’s stop and listen for a while, shall we?’
He gave a nod of assent, and they halted. In her tranquil frame of mind she rejoiced in the grand swell of melody. It seemed to her that she was being engulfed, not by the music so much as by the still blue waters of her lagoon, limpid and clear as the river upon which Lohengrin’s craft glided forth, and she saw majestic, beautiful swans. .
At the loudest fortissimo she took a deep breath, and when the glass filaments drawn by the violins spun themselves out, thinner and thinner, the majestic swans, too, glided away.
There was a burst of applause; the semicircle of listeners dissolved.
‘Lovely. . that was so lovely!’ murmured Eline as in a dream, feeling Otto’s hand searching for her arm. Oh, life was sweet indeed. .
‘It’s very strange, you know. I always feel so much better for listening to a beautiful piece of music; it gives me the feeling that I might not be completely unworthy of you after all,’ she murmured, putting her lips close to his ear so that no one would hear. ‘It’s silly of me, I suppose, but I can’t help it.’
She smiled at him uncertainly, in suspense for his answer. She often felt a little uncertain, as though she might lose him by a single ill-advised word, for she had not yet fathomed how much he loved her, nor why.
‘Oh, you mustn’t put me on a pedestal,’ he said gently, lowering his voice as he spoke, so that their conversation seemed merely to hover in the air separating them. ‘I’m a perfectly ordinary chap, not a jot better than anyone else, and you ought not to place yourself beneath me. You, unworthy of me! The very idea! Why, I believe you don’t know yourself very well at all.’
Could he be right? Did she not know herself? The possibility surprised and delighted her, for she had always thought she knew herself very well. Could there really be some hidden corner of her soul that she knew nothing about, some secret wellspring of devotion to him? Would he teach her to know herself?
‘Oh, Otto!’ she began.
‘What?’ he asked softly.
‘Nothing, it’s just that I love you so much when you talk about us in that way,’ she murmured, filled with an exaltation for which she had no words. She felt the gentle touch of his hand on her arm, and a little tremor passed through her as they made their way among the jostling, laughing crowd, eagerly observed from the tables by their acquaintances and those who knew them by sight.
‘There go Van Erlevoort and Eline, all dreamy-eyed! They didn’t even notice us, would you believe!’ exclaimed Léonie to young Hijdrecht, with a touch of envy in her voice.
. .
Hearing their names being called, Eline and Otto looked about them and caught sight of Madame Verstraeten sitting at a table with Marie, Lili and Frédérique. Georges de Woude had risen; he was beckoning amicably. They shook hands.
‘Aha, Freddie!’ said Otto with some surprise.
‘Madame was so kind as to invite me along after dinner,’ she explained. ‘By the way, Otto, just after you left a letter came from De Horze: they are all well and send you their regards. You too, Eline.’
‘Thank you,’ said Eline warmly, sinking onto the chair Georges had vacated beside Madame Verstraeten. Marie had grown very pale, which nobody noticed as she was wearing a hat with a white veil.
‘Theodore writes that Suzanne and Van Stralenburg and the baby are coming to stay with them next week, and now Mama’s in a great quandary.’
‘What, was Mama planning to go to De Horze? And Howard is coming here?’
‘Yes, that’s the dilemma.’
‘Dear Madame van Erlevoort,’ mused Madame Verstraeten.
‘Percy let her know that he would be coming in the last week of July, while Theodore wrote a letter saying that Van Stralenburg would not be staying later than the 20th. So you can imagine,’ continued Frédérique, forcing herself to cast a cordial look at Eline, ‘how complicated it is for Mama. She doesn’t have much opportunity to travel to Zwolle, and leaving The Hague before the 20th while Howard and Catherine are coming, well, it wouldn’t do at all.’
‘But Howard will be travelling on to De Horze later, won’t he?’ asked Otto.
‘Yes, but he’ll want to spend a few days in The Hague first, to take advantage of the beach at Scheveningen,’ replied Frédérique. ‘So now Mama doesn’t know whether she’s coming or going, and she couldn’t bear it if she missed seeing her new grandchild this summer, as I’m sure you understand.’
‘Well, in that case I shall prevail upon Mama to let me take her to Zwolle one of these days. Simple!’ said Otto. ‘And it would save her the journey to De Horze, which is rather more arduous.’
‘You might try,’ said Frédérique. ‘It would certainly solve the problem.’
Lili asked to be excused as she wished to take a turn with De Woude, whereupon her mother invited Otto to sit beside her until the young people returned.