XXVIII
Eline sat alone in the ladies’ compartment, her head tilted back against the red-velvet padding. She listened attentively to the wheels pounding the rails, thinking she could distinguish a nervous three-quarter time in the harsh, metallic monotone. Now and then she rubbed the steamed-up window with her pocket handkerchief to look outside, where the gray shadows of twilight were deepening. She saw swirls of mist rising over the meadows and the faint yellow glow of scattered farms in the distance as the train chugged onwards to The Hague. The Hague! She had been away for so long that the city seemed dear to her now, a place where she might yet find something of a home.
For the past eighteen months she had been abroad, either travelling and living in hotels surrounded by strangers or staying at her uncle’s house in Brussels, never having a place she could call her own. Her varied existence had made the time pass very quickly, her mind having been constantly occupied by touring new cities and meeting new people, but lately she had begun to tire of that endless diversity. She now yearned for peace and tranquillity, for a long, dull period of complete repose, untroubled by dreams or sadness of any kind.
Something of a home! Would she find such a home with dear old Madame van Raat, that mournful, grey-haired lady who loved her but who did not know her as she was now: a sad, subdued creature, weary of her young life. Because from now on that was what she would be, sad, subdued, and weary; no longer would she work herself up to be vivacious and gay at all times, the way she had been obliged to do among strangers, the way Georges and Lili had seen her only a few days ago. A proper Parisienne, Lili had called her — fancy Lili being taken in by her veneer of sophistication! Ah well, she felt too weak for any kind of performance now. Something had broken in her spirit, and now everything else was slowly but surely breaking down all around her. What a mess it all was. .
The train whistled shrilly and the lights glimmering through the mist multiplied. In a few minutes she would be in The Hague. Slowly she drew herself up in her seat, adjusted her hat and veil, placed her book and scent bottle in her leather travelling bag and waited, tense and ramrod-straight. She appeared rather slight and wan in her grey travelling coat, gazing ahead with hollow eyes as the train rolled into the station and ground noisily to a halt.
Her heart beat faster and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. The train conductor shouted ‘Hague! Hague!’, and through the steamed-up glass she saw the jostling crowd on the platform, bathed in the dismal glow of gas lanterns.
The carriage door was wrenched open from the outside; she stood up, gripping her bag in one hand and several parasols rolled up in her travelling rug in the other. She scanned the stream of disembarking passengers for any sign of Paul, whom she had been told to expect, and was astonished to see another familiar figure coming in her direction.
‘Why, Henk!’ she cried.
As he helped her down to the platform she almost tumbled into his arms, while Paul, who arrived a moment later, relieved her of her hand luggage.
‘Elly, dear child! My dearest Elly!’ Henk said with a catch in his voice, and he kissed her softly as she leant against him, weeping. She barely heard Paul’s greeting, merely handed him her luggage ticket so that he would see to her trunks. A sob escaped her, but Henk chatted on regardless, taking her arm and steering her to the station exit where his carriage was waiting. She responded meekly, her mind awhirl with undefined thoughts and nostalgic sentiments, and she was glad of his strong hand helping her up to her seat. She recognised the landau in which she had ridden so often, but she noted that the groom was different; in the old days it would have been Herman.
‘Paul will be here soon, and then we’ll be off,’ said Henk, seating himself beside her.
She did not answer, but leant back, covering her face with her hands to hide her emotion.
‘I had not expected to see you, Henk! How very kind of you!’ she said after a pause. ‘So very kind!’
He pressed her hand and put his head round the open door to look for Paul, who was just arriving with the luggage.
‘All set!’ cried Paul, jumping in. ‘Well, Elly, what a pleasure to see you again! A great pleasure, I must say.’
The groom shut the door and the carriage rumbled off. Paul said no more; neither did Eline and Henk. With each gas lantern they passed Paul caught another glimpse of Eline leaning back in her seat with her hands to her face, motionless but for her heaving breast.
. .
It was past ten when they drew up at the house on Laan van Meerdervoort. The groom rang the bell; the door was opened; they alighted. In the vestibule stood Madame van Raat, trembling with emotion as Eline rushed forward and flung her arms about her.
‘My dear, dear lady! How glad I am to see you!’ she sobbed. ‘So you will have me? You wish me to stay with you?’
Madame van Raat, weeping like a child, drew Eline to the brightly lit dining room, where the table was spread for supper.
‘Oh, I can’t tell you how grateful I am! You’re such an angel!’ Eline cried out. ‘I’m so delighted to be here with you.’
They clung together tearfully as they moved to the sofa, where they sat down side by side. The old lady put her arm fondly about Eline’s waist. How long it had been since they had seen one another! How sorely she had missed her! And how had Eline fared in the meantime? Was she well?
‘Oh yes, certainly! I am very well!’ cried Eline, kissing her again and again.
Madame van Raat undid Eline’s veil, helped her to remove her hat and her coat, and was dismayed to see the frail shoulders, the gaunt cheeks, the forlorn expression in the eyes.
‘My dear child!’ she gasped, unable to contain herself. ‘My dear child! How you have changed! Look at you!’
Eline embraced her passionately, hiding her flushed face in the old lady’s bosom.
‘Oh, I’m perfectly all right, only a little pale, probably, and tired after my journey. Just being with you will make me look as a fresh as a daisy again in no time, you’ll see!’
She smiled through her tears and kissed her repeatedly, now on the cheek, now on the backs of her wrinkled hands. They were soon joined by Henk and Paul, who were likewise shocked to see how thin Eline had grown, without however making any comment on her appearance.
After a while the old lady, who could not take her eyes off Eline, suggested that she might like to freshen up in her room.
‘No, not yet!’ objected Eline. ‘I hardly feel dusty at all, so never mind that. But ah, there he is — Henk! Good, kind Henk!’
She beckoned him to the sofa where she was sitting with his mother, drew him close and cupped his face in her small hands.
‘You’re not cross with me, are you, Henk?’ she murmured in his ear.
He bit his lip.
‘I was never cross with you,’ he stammered.
She kissed him, let him go, took a deep breath and cast a leisurely glance about the room. She had found something of a home.
They all seated themselves at the table. Eline was not hungry: she barely looked at her soup, avoided the meat dish and ate only some slivers of duck accompanied by a few lettuce leaves. She was thirsty, however, and eager to have her glass replenished by Paul. The wine and the excitement had brought a red flush to her sallow cheeks, and when the old lady wondered aloud why her uncle Daniel had not seen fit to escort her to The Hague, she responded with loud, nervous laughter. Oh, there had been no need, it was no hardship for her to make the journey from Brussels to The Hague alone; besides, her uncle had offered to accompany her but she had not wished it — she was so accustomed to travelling that she felt perfectly at ease! Travelling, there was nothing to it: you packed your valise, found out about itineraries and such, and off you went to catch your train. Ah, if dear Madame would ever feel inclined to undertake a journey with her, Eline would show her what an expert traveller she had become!