‘Vincent, I want you to promise me something. If there is anything I can do for you, if I can ever help you in any way, you must write to me from New York, and I shan’t disappoint you. Promise me that you will write?’
‘I promise. You are very kind.’
‘Another thing: I know you’re often short of funds. If I can be of help, you must let me know. Just now, for instance, I have two hundred and fifty guilders to spare. Yours, if you need any money. Shall I get it for you?’
She rose, making to open her writing table, but he grasped her hand with a show of emotion.
‘Elly, oh Elly, no — I couldn’t possibly. It is extremely kind of you, and I’m deeply grateful, but I wouldn’t be able to pay you back for quite some time.’
‘Please don’t say no, I’d really like you to have it.’
‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your offer, but no, truly, I cannot accept. It would not be right.’
She stood quite still, her face drained of colour. Yes! Yes, of course he loved her! How could she have had the slightest doubt? Why else would he refuse the money? It was because he loved her that he wouldn’t let a debt come between them! But then why didn’t he say something?
At last he stood up; the cab would arrive in a few minutes.
‘Can’t you make it up with Betsy before you go?’ she said imploringly. ‘It’s so horrid to part under these conditions.’
‘I’ll go to her now, and all will be put right again soon enough. But now I really must be off. Goodbye, my dear Elly. Farewell, and thank you a thousand times for everything you have done for me.’
‘Goodbye, Vincent, goodbye.’
As he made to embrace her, she flung her arms about his neck and kissed him on both cheeks.
‘Spare a thought for me now and then, will you?’ he said. ‘I hold you very dear, and there aren’t that many people I hold dear, as you well know. Farewell then, Elly, au revoir.’
Struggling against her tears, she kissed him again, and as he moved away she subsided on to the couch, giving a final nod of farewell. He left, shutting the door behind him.
She sat staring at the door until she heard his cab rumble off. She was perplexed. How could he have kissed her so coolly in that final moment of intimacy? She dearly wished to understand his sentiments, and also to probe her own feelings so that she might know whether she really loved Vincent, but she was tired and her head felt heavy, and with a weary sigh she fell back in the cushions.
. .
Betsy had pardoned Vincent at the last moment. In the knowledge that he was leaving at last she could afford to soften towards him, and so she made conciliatory remarks to the effect that their time together would soon have been curtailed anyway because she was planning to travel abroad in the autumn. Once he was gone she gradually became herself again, no longer venting her temper so frequently at the servants, or at Eline, Henk and Ben. She even spoke amicably to her sister from time to time: it really wasn’t a good idea to shut oneself away from the world the way she was doing, it would make anyone lonely and miserable, and besides, it was bound to attract attention — people might think she was sorry to have lost Van Erlevoort! No, it would be a good thing if she showed her face in public once in a while; there was no need to accept every invitation if she did not feel up to it, but sending her apologies every time was giving the wrong impression. As it happened, Madame Hovel was giving a dinner party the following week; her evenings were usually rather intimate, and this invitation was no exception. Emilie and Georges de Woude would be there, as well as Paul — in other words, should Betsy accept on Eline’s behalf?
Eline herself was beginning to feel a desire for a change of scene, for she was enmeshed in her solitary thoughts, which went round and round in her head without leading anywhere. So she conceded that Betsy was quite right: she would accept Madame Hovel’s invitation. It would be her first appearance in company since breaking off her engagement. The dinner party a few days hence became an anchor in her fluctuating emotions, a welcome distraction from Betsy’s constant references to Vincent’s tiresome sojourn in her house. What a blessing it was to be rid of that languishing, insufferable cousin of theirs! True, she had taken offence at a fairly minor breach of etiquette on his part, but it had been quite wrong of him, and she wasn’t a bit sorry she had told him off, because if she hadn’t done so he would still be there! Good gracious, what a bore he was! Why she had ever thought he would be good company she could not imagine. And that long face of his — rather like a reptile, quite loathsome, really. Ah well, thank goodness he was gone now, and she was glad to let bygones be bygones.
During mealtimes each day Betsy chatted on in the same mindless vein, reciting the same litany of disparagements. Henk and Eline sat in glum silence, numbed by her loquacity. Much as Eline wanted to speak out in Vincent’s defence, she felt too dispirited, and simply gave a sigh of relief when Betsy finally ran out of steam. She suffered mutely for Vincent, who was in love with her and had acted so honourably.
The day of the dinner arrived. For the first time in weeks Eline took great care over her appearance. While they were waiting for the carriage to arrive, however, Betsy pronounced her to be overdressed: such a dark gown, and so formal, why, she looked as if she were going to a funeral! Eline said nothing, merely shrugged. She glanced in the hall-stand mirror and was reassured: she thought she made an impression of subdued elegance with her pale, melancholy features and her low-cut dress of black, frothy tulle.
They were the last to arrive at the Hovel residence, and when Eline made her entrance she had the feeling everyone in the room was observing her with a kind of eager curiosity. It was the first time she had ever felt ill at ease being the centre of attention, and yet she knew all the dinner guests quite intimately: Emilie and Georges de Woude, Françoise Oudendijk, Hijdrecht and Paul. On the other hand, none of them had seen her since she had called off her engagement, so there was nothing for it but to try and ignore their inquisitive glances. At the table, seated between Georges and Hijdrecht, she felt little desire to talk, and was glad of the latter’s rambling conversation, to which she pretended to listen, smiling vaguely and not saying a word in response. Georges was more quiet than usual. But on the opposite side of the table a loud, jocular exchange was taking place between Emilie and Françoise, while Paul, placed between them, acted as referee.
The clamour opposite, Hijdrecht’s incessant chatter at her side, and the general animation around the dinner table made Eline’s head swim. The servants intoning each variety of wine as they made to replenish her glass, the copious servings, the joking and the hilarity — how very boring it all was. She was jolted out of her gloomy reverie by the mention of Vincent’s name. Betsy was telling the host that her cousin had departed and might be going to America.
‘To tell you the truth, I was not sorry to see him go. I don’t care for him, really; in fact I think he is rather disagreeable. Of course, since he’s our cousin, we can’t ignore him completely, but he is very peculiar, and I couldn’t help being afraid he might do something to compromise us.’
Eline no longer heard what Hijdrecht was saying; she was all ears to Betsy’s gossipy voice, which she could fairly easily distinguish in the hubbub. So it was not enough for Betsy to be constantly running him down in the privacy of her home, with Eline trying valiantly to keep her counsel, she was actually ventilating her hatred of Vincent in this dining room, among strangers! Eline listened with mounting rage.
‘There’s something creepy about him — a bit like a toad, or some reptile, don’t you agree? Unnerving, too, with those pale, shifty eyes of his.’