But she had not seen Fabrice for such a long time that her fantasy, being deprived of fresh impressions, foundered; the vision dissipated, leaving her in a grey, sombre frame of mind that appeared to reflect the sky outside, heavy with dark rain clouds. She felt hot tears brimming over her lashes, then a keen wish for Henk’s company. At least with him she could pour out her misery; he was so devoted to her, so good at comforting her in his own kindly, gauche way — the sound of his voice alone, so deep and warm, was as balm to her soul.
She wept quietly and thought how disagreeable it was that she and Betsy were on such bad terms. The following day was her, Eline’s, birthday. Would Betsy take the first step towards a reconciliation, or was she herself really to blame for their latest tiff? Had she felt sure of her sister’s reaction, she would gladly have offered to make peace with her, or even apologise if necessary, but as it was she feared Betsy’s coolness. So she would wait; yes, she would wait.
The afternoon seemed interminable, the hours dragged on as though weighed down by her melancholy. Then it was time to dress for dinner with the Hijdrechts, although she had not the slightest expectation of finding any amusement there. She wished she could ask Betsy to say that she was unwell and unable to join them, but no, that wouldn’t do. Unlike the Verstraetens, the Hijdrechts might well be piqued by her failure to attend, and besides, Betsy might refuse point-blank to do as she asked. So she went, having worked herself up into a spirit of coquettish gaiety by which one and all were taken in, so adept was she at concealing her emotions.
. .
The following day was January 20th and Eline’s birthday. She stayed in bed longer than usual, snuggled down among the warm blankets in the soft red glow of the curtains, without the least inclination to rise, not even to go for her morning walk. She wouldn’t see him anyway, even if she did go out — she could feel it in her bones. Superstitious fancies began to crowd her mind, and she wagered that if Mina came to prepare her washstand before the clock struck nine — it was now close upon the hour — she would see Fabrice in the Wood tomorrow. But Mina came after nine o’clock, and when she left again after setting out the toiletries Eline had another fancy: she would see Fabrice if she had left her bracelets on the large coaster last night, but if she had left them on one of the small coasters she would not. She sat up, swept aside the red damask bed-curtain and peered at her dressing table. There lay the bracelets, on the large coaster! With a smile, she subsided on to her pillows once more.
It was time to get up, she thought, but why not stay abed in the cosy warmth, since she was so downhearted, why start a new day? In a while her friends would come to congratulate her, she would have to turn on her smiles and receive their birthday gifts with ecstatic exclamations, but her humour was by no means amenable and she had no desire to see anyone.
The clock struck half-past ten, and she thought Betsy was bound to come up before long, with a few friendly words to make up the quarrel. She listened for her sister’s tread on the stairs, but heard nothing, and at last, unnerved by her own lassitude, she got out of bed and slowly proceeded to dress.
She saw her face in the glass and noticed the sad look in her eyes and the hint of bitterness about her lips, and thought herself almost ugly today. But what of it? For whose sake should she be beautiful, given that no one loved her with anything resembling the passion she knew her heart capable of?
When she was finally dressed she had qualms. If she went downstairs now, how should she approach Betsy? Should she take a passive attitude? Why didn’t Betsy meet her halfway? Why did she continue to bear a grudge for so long, about such a trifling matter?
The idea of seeing Betsy in the breakfast room filled her with trepidation, and she stepped into her boudoir, where the stove was already lit and burning brightly. She slumped onto her couch, feeling bereft and abandoned. Why, oh why did she live?
She sank deeper and deeper into despondency, when relief came at last with the sound of Henk and Ben climbing the stairs. Presently they were on the landing, she could hear their voices, then there was a loud banging on her door.
‘Where are you, Eline dear, still in bed?’ cried Henk.
‘No, I’m here, in my boudoir!’ she answered, raising her voice slightly.
The door opened to reveal Henk, shaking his head from side to side, while Ben, clutching a posy in his small fist, wriggled his way in past his father’s riding boots.
‘Many happy returns, Auntie! Here, this is from Ben!’ recited the well-rehearsed little fellow as he thrust the flowers in her lap.
‘My dear girl, how could you stay cooped up in your rooms for so long? You’re usually back from your walk at this hour!’ exclaimed Henk.
She made no comment, merely hugged the child, fighting back her tears.
‘Put them in some water, Ben, there’s a good boy; tepid water is best. Thank you, thank you, poppet. Here then, take the vase, careful now.’
Ben, docile as ever, went off with the vase, squeezing past his father’s legs again. Eline fell back against the cushions, giving her brother-in-law a wan smile.
‘I don’t feel at all well this morning,’ she said listlessly. Henk approached her with his hands on his back.
‘What, not well on your birthday?’ he asked cheerily. ‘Come, come, it’s time you went downstairs, you lazy girl, but let me give you a big kiss first! Happy birthday, dear Eline!’ He pressed his lips to each cheek in turn, while she lay still, smiling weakly.
‘And here’s a little something for you, Elly. I hope you will like it,’ he continued, handing her a small box.
She gave a light laugh.
‘How funny that you should come and bring me my present up here! Thank you, Henk, thank you very much.’
She opened the box and saw a hairpin in the shape of a diamond spider.
‘But Henk!’ she cried. ‘How you spoil me! I can remember seeing it in the window at Van Kempen’s a while ago, and I know I mentioned liking it very much. I shall have to be more careful about what I say in future, I do believe,’ she said, with a touch of embarrassment. She was thinking of her Bucchi fan.
‘Betsy made a mental note of it at the time,’ he responded. ‘We’re both very happy to give you something you like.’
Hearing this she almost felt annoyed at their gift, but flung her arms around his neck and kissed him anyway.
‘Really, you do spoil me!’ she faltered.
‘Oh, fiddlesticks!’ he burst out. ‘But now I must go for my canter. And you must come downstairs, my dear, or else I shall carry you down myself.’
‘No, no, that you shall not!’
‘All right then, but be quick, or else—’
‘Yes, yes, I’ll be down in a moment. But no nonsense, Henk, do you hear?’ she said firmly and with some alarm, for she could see a frolicsome intention on his part and was in no mood for banter.
He reassured her, laughing, and it was on the tip of his tongue to suggest that she make peace with his wife, but he could not think of a tactful way of raising the subject. She might fly into a rage, and besides, it would all sort itself out soon enough, he reasoned, and left the room.
Reluctantly, Eline rose from the couch, thinking that Betsy must have instructed Henk to take the present upstairs so as not to have to give it to her herself. She thought how awkward it was that it now fell to her to take the first step towards a reconciliation. It was a blow to her pride. It would look as if she was so pleased with their gift that all bad feelings were instantly forgotten. How tiresome this was, but stilclass="underline" she could hardly just say good morning and start eating her breakfast without referring to the gift at all. She regretted not having followed her instinct yesterday to attempt appeasement. Oh, how stupid it all was, their falling out like this, and only because of those dogs!