Eline Vere

XVII

Lili was reading a book in the drawing room when the doorbell rang. It was Frédérique, making her final call of the afternoon.

‘Where’s Marie? Is she not in?’ asked Freddie.

‘Yes she is,’ responded Lili. ‘We went out earlier, but she’s upstairs now.’

‘Upstairs? How odd,’ said Frédérique. ‘She always seems to be upstairs when I call. You haven’t fallen out, have you?’

‘Oh no, not at all,’ replied Lili. ‘She’s probably drawing, or else writing.’

‘Writing what? A letter?’

‘Oh no, it’s a novella, I think, or something like that. But don’t say anything, will you? I think she means to keep it a secret.’

After a pause, Frédérique asked, ‘Do you find Marie changed lately?’

‘Changed? Marie? No, I haven’t noticed anything. Why do you ask?’

‘Oh, no reason, it’s just that she seems for ever occupied nowadays.’

‘But she’s always been like that, she’s always busy, just like Jan; I’m the only lazybones in the family, according to Papa.’

Frédérique made no reply. She was surprised that Lili had not noticed how edgy and reclusive her sister had become lately, but she told herself she was probably imagining it all, or Lili would not have been so dismissive.

‘You know we’re going to the Oudendijks’ this evening, don’t you?’ she said, to change the subject.

‘Yes, you mentioned the invitation. Ah, so you’ll be going. Just as well, too, because you’ve been awfully dull lately, haven’t you? Becoming indisposed each time you were invited, so it seems to me,’ jested Lili.

‘Well, I was upset,’ said Frédérique. ‘It was. . well, it was because of Otto’s crush on Eline. But all that’s settled now, and I’ve washed my hands of the whole affair. He knows best, I suppose. Anyway, it’s no use fretting, because. .’

She broke off, her eyes becoming moist and her lips tightening with suppressed emotion.

‘But Freddie,’ Lili said softly, ‘he’s known her for such a long time, ever since she moved in with the Van Raats, and if he loves her—’

‘Oh, I just want everything to turn out for the good, and I hope they’ll be very happy. The trouble is, I cannot abide Eline. Of course I do my best to be nice to her, but you know how hard it is for me to hide my feelings. Oh, do let’s talk about something else. It can’t be helped, in any case, and I’d rather not think about it either. Shall we go and look for Marie?’

Lili consented, and off they went upstairs, where they found Marie seated at the small writing table in the sitting room shared by the two sisters. Several pages of writing lay before her, but now she sat with one hand propping up her cheek and the other making squiggles on a blank sheet of paper. She gave a start when Freddie and Lili came in.

‘We’ve come to distract you,’ announced Freddie, smiling broadly. ‘Unless you’d rather be left in peace, of course.’

‘Oh no, not at all. And Lili never keeps me company, anyway.’

Lili made no comment. Her sister was being unfair, she thought, because it had been Marie’s idea to go upstairs by herself, not hers, neither were they in the habit of spending the afternoon together in their sitting room.

‘What have you been writing? Or is it a secret?’ asked Freddie with a sidelong glance at the sheets of notepaper.

‘No, not a secret,’ replied Marie with feigned indifference. ‘It’s something I started a while ago, a sort of travel diary of the excursions we went on last year, to Thüringen and the Black Forest, and I meant to turn it into a little story. But I’m bored with it now. I don’t know why I started it in the first place, really. It’s not like me to want to write stories, is it now?’

‘Why ever not?’ said Freddie with enthusiasm. ‘Won’t you read us something?’

‘Certainly not! Bore you with my schoolgirl prose? What do you take me for? It’s just something to keep me busy, that’s all. I was bored, so I took up writing, just as Lili has taken up reading. Do you know what I think, Freddie?’ Marie pulled a comically serious face. ‘I think we’re getting old! Yes, downright old I say, and dreary to boot. Do you realise it’s been months since we had a good laugh the way we used to?’

‘Or with Paul and Etienne!’ said Lili.

‘With or without them. We girls used to have such fun! But nowadays. . I don’t know about you, but I think we’re all getting to be as dull as ditchwater! There’s you, down in the dumps because you don’t like Eline, and Lili going all quiet and sentimental, spending all her time daydreaming, and here I am writing about blue mountains and hazy vistas out of sheer boredom.’

‘Where will it all end?’ laughed Freddie. ‘Yes, the future looks very dismal, especially in your case. I bet there’s some secret lurking behind those blue mountains and distant panoramas.’

‘A secret?’ echoed Marie. ‘Oh no, nothing like that. Nothing at all.’ She touched her hand to her temple, and Frédérique thought she was brushing away a tear. Lili concentrated on rearranging the books in one of the cabinets.

‘Marie!’ said Frédérique softly. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help, I wish you’d say so. I can see perfectly well that you are upset about something. Why keep it to yourself?’

Marie stood up and averted her face.

‘Why Freddie, you shouldn’t jump to conclusions! You’re as bad as Lili, seeing romantic reasons for everything. There’s nothing the matter, except that I’m rather bored, and I’d love to have some fun for a change. Well, hello there, master Jan!’

Jan stood in the doorway with a quizzical look.

‘What are you three up to? Gossiping about your beaus, I bet.’ he said.

‘Have you ever heard such presumption!’ exclaimed Marie, throwing her hands up in horror. ‘It’s your inborn male vanity making you say that, mere stripling though you are; just you wait, I’ll show you!’

She began to chase him round the table while he laughed and ducked this way and that, quickly putting chairs in her path whenever he could, much to Freddie’s and Lili’s amusement. Suddenly he dashed out of the room, with Marie at his heels.

‘What’s got into Marie?’ wondered Freddie. A few moments later Marie returned, quite out of breath.

‘Did you catch him?’ asked Lili.

‘Of course not,’ responded Marie. ‘That boy’s as quick as greased lightning, and as nimble as a mountain goat too! Oh, how good it feels to run. . I wish I were a boy!’

When Frédérique made to leave, Lili accompanied her downstairs; Marie said she would be down shortly.

But she lingered by the window and gazed outside, where the fading light was veiling the world with a transparent, ashen haze. She could see the canal, green and still beneath leafy overhanging boughs, and the avenue dozing beyond, melting into the dewy dusk.

She took a deep breath. She would banish that cruel sense of regret from her heart once and for all, as she had already begun doing this afternoon. She was getting old, decidedly old, she felt, she was becoming dull and weighed down with cares. But she would be brave, she would have no self-pity, she would crush the blossom within her soul, revile that vision, blot it out. It was torture, but she owed it to herself.

And as she stared vacantly into the gathering darkness, the face of her beloved rose up before her. She saw his fine head, the warm fidelity of his gaze, his kind expression, his heart-warming smile. But he was smiling at Eline, not at her.

. .

The tram cars running between Oude Scheveningseweg and the Kurhaus were packed. At the junction of Anna Paulownastraat and Laan Copes van Cattenburch they were stormed by the waiting throng and rapidly filled to overflowing, both inside and out. There was much pushing and stepping on toes, and even ladies colourfully attired in fluttery summery dresses joined the feverish scramble for places. The bell clanged, the horses started up, and all the passengers who had managed to climb on board smiled triumphantly as the conductor shouted to the crestfallen people left behind, who promptly turned away to face the arrival of the next tram.

‘Such crowds! How dreadful!’ said Eline, observing the commotion with a serene smile.

She was seated next to Betsy in the open landau, facing Henk and Otto. Dirk the coachman had been obliged to halt a moment, but now the long line of vehicles began to move again. Herman, the young groom in pale-grey livery with shiny buttons, sat bolt upright with his arms folded across his chest and his lips pursed in an expression of self-importance.

‘There are bound to be lots of people,’ said Betsy. ‘But as it’s in the open air, there will be enough places, so we needn’t fret.’

Not a breath of wind stirred the dense foliage, and after a day of soaring temperatures the gathering dusk brought little relief. The air seemed torpid, leaden. Eline leant back in her seat, looking rather wan from the heat; she spoke little, merely glanced at Otto from time to time through hooded eyes, with a hint of coquettish contentment. Betsy was chatting away to Van Erlevoort, as Henk found little to say. His mind was on other things, such as how much more pleasant it would have been to have stayed at home and taken tea in the garden instead of rushing off to Scheveningen immediately after dinner.

Betsy, however, felt on top of the world, relishing the sultry evening air, the soft padding of her well-appointed landau, which compared so favourably with the other private vehicles, and the sight of Herman sitting ramrod-stiff on the box with the hangings monogrammed in silver. She was pleased with herself, with the luxury that she had occasion to display, and with the company she was seen to be keeping. Eline was looking as pretty as a picture in a stylishly simple ensemble in a pale shade of pewter, her face framed by a refined little bonnet tied with a flutter of silk ribbon. And Van Erlevoort was a fine-looking fellow, a man of distinction. As for Henk, he looked comfortably expansive and sleek. . no indeed, her husband was not really so bad, she could have done a lot worse for herself.

When Dirk overtook another vehicle of their acquaintance, Betsy acknowledged the occupants with her most winning smile, since she did not wish to appear to be gloating at the speed of her handsome bays.

‘Oh, lovely! It’s cooling down, I’m beginning to feel quite revived,’ murmured Eline. She took a deep breath and sat up as they came to the end of the Promenade. ‘Just what I needed: some fresh air after the appalling heat we had this afternoon.’

‘Nonsense, Elly, it was delightful!’ countered Betsy. ‘In fact I wish we had such warm weather all the time.’

‘Well, it would kill me after a few weeks! Oh, Otto, you’re laughing, but I’m serious, the heat makes me quite ill. Don’t you believe me?’

‘But Elly, of course I believe you!’

She shook her head, giving him a look of mock reproof.

‘You called me Elly again,’ she whispered.

‘So I did; how silly of me. Ah, I’ve just had an idea,’ he whispered back happily.

‘What are you two conspiring about?’ Henk demanded.

‘Oh, nothing. Just a little secret between Otto and me. . shh,’ she said, putting her finger to her lips, delighting in their curiosity.

For she had asked Otto not to call her by the familiar name everyone used. She wanted him to invent a special name for her, a name that only he would use, one that was not worn and stale — he did not think it childish of her, did he? He had exhausted himself trying to come up with a suitable pet name, but she was never satisfied and kept telling him to think again. And now he appeared to have found something.

‘I’m dying to know,’ she whispered, smiling.

‘Later,’ he mouthed, returning her smile.

‘Until now I didn’t find you half as tiresome as most engaged girls, and I wish you’d stop mumbling like that, it’s very boring!’ Betsy cried out with mild indignation.

‘Well, you were no better with Henk in the old days!’ riposted Eline. ‘Was she, Henk?’

‘No, I don’t believe she was!’ chuckled Henk. Eline felt a pang: the thought of her sister’s engagement several years since brought back long-buried moments of a certain heartache she had felt at the time. It all seemed so very long ago, yet she was perturbed.

But they had long since left Badhuisweg behind, they had passed the Gallery, they had rolled round to the rear of the Kurhaus, and now they were coming to a halt at the steps leading to the terrace overlooking the sea.

. .

Betsy, Eline and Otto passed one by one through the turnstile, while Henk, who had the tickets, brought up the rear. They did not see the Eekhofs and the Hijdrechts, who were seated at one of the tables near the bandstand, and walked on. Otto’s hand was touching Eline’s arm.

‘Look, there go the Van Raats, and Miss Vere with Van Erlevoort!’ said young Hijdrecht. ‘They’ve been coming here every evening lately.’

‘What an absurdly plain dress Eline is wearing!’ said Léonie. ‘I wonder who she’s trying to impress. . and that hat with the veil! All the girls nowadays seem to think they should have a hat with a veil as soon as they get engaged. It’s preposterous!’

‘Still, they make a fine couple, don’t they?’ opined Madame Eekhof. ‘And it’s a splendid match.’

‘At least they aren’t making a spectacle of themselves the way some engaged couples do,’ said Ange. ‘Not like Marguerite van Laren, for instance, for ever flicking invisible dust off her fiancé’s lapels. Remember how we laughed the other day, Hijdrecht?’

Betsy, bobbing and smiling left and right as they picked their way through the multitude, said they ought to find a table soon or they would all be taken.

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.

‘How lovely Eline looks! Don’t you agree, De Woude?’ asked Lili.

Since she had been skating with him last winter she had allowed him to call her familiarly by her first name, while she had taken to addressing him simply as ‘De Woude’.

‘Yes, quite so,’ replied Georges indifferently.

‘Well, I think she’s really beautiful!’ said Lili with conviction. ‘How can you not find her beautiful? Your taste is very peculiar!’

He laughed with secret pleasure.

‘It’s not my fault that she leaves me cold, you know. I happen to have a different idea of beauty. But if you absolutely insist that I should find her beautiful, well then, I shall take another look.’

‘Oh no, you needn’t do that,’ she replied, laughing with him. ‘It’s just that every man I know thinks she’s beautiful, so I can’t see why you don’t. And I can’t imagine why Frédérique is not fond of her. If I were a man I’d fall head over heels in love with her.’

‘And fight a duel with Van Erlevoort, I suppose.’

The first part of the programme was at an end and the listeners began to swarm away in all directions. Georges and Lili found themselves hemmed in by a mass of heads and shoulders, all pressing forward.

‘This is hopeless,’ said Lili. ‘I hate being in a crowd like this. You’d think it was Sunday.’

‘What would you say to a stroll on the beach,’ he suggested softly. ‘The exit is just over there.’

‘Is it allowed?’ said Lili, warming to the idea. ‘Do you think Mama would mind?’

‘Of course not, not if you’re with me,’ he said, sounding almost proud.

They passed through the turnstile and hurried down the steps, crossed the road, and then took the broad wooden stairs down to the sand.

The large wicker beach chairs were ranged in clusters for the night. Here and there a Scheveninger could be seen, adjusting his swagger to the slow pace of his ample-skirted wife.

The waves lapping the shore glittered in the bright lights shining from the gas-lit Kurhaus.

‘Phew!’ said Lili. ‘Some space at last!’

The sea, calm and smooth, unfurled in shades of green, azure and violet, capped here and there with glistening white foam all along the beach. It was a starry night, and the Milky Way resembled a sprinkling of pearl dust in the mysterious vastness of the deepblue sky. The air was filled with a steady murmur, as from a single, gigantic seashell.

‘How wonderfully quiet it is here after all that noise! Quite divine,’ gushed Lili.

‘Yes it is,’ said Georges.

She had almost tripped over something, after which he had offered her his arm, and she had taken it. There was so much he wanted to say, but he could not find the words for fear of sounding ridiculous. She too felt a sweet impulse to pour out her feelings, to tell him how awed she was by the beauty of the sea and the starry sky, but she felt a trifle embarrassed about the poetic exaltation in her heart, which was so strangely at odds with the mundaneness of the circles they moved in. So they both kept silent as they strolled along the beach, with the murmur of the sea in their ears and the same tender emotion in their hearts, which each could sense in the other, and which seemed to fill the silence between them with more than words.

They had strolled wordlessly for some distance along the tranquil sea, lost in their shared solitude, when he felt he ought to say something.

‘I could walk with you to the ends of the earth, or anyway all the way to Katwijk!’ he said, jesting to hide his serious intent.

She laughed; it was a joke, after all.

‘In that case I’d probably get very tired.’

‘Then I would carry you.’

‘You couldn’t — I’m too heavy.’

‘If that’s what you think, come here and I’ll show you.’

‘Georges! What a shocking idea! Now I shall have to get cross — unless you beg my pardon properly, that is.’

‘How do you mean, properly?’ he asked humbly.

‘Say after me: I, Georges de Woude van Bergh, humbly apologise to Lili,’ she intoned, and a lot more besides. He dutifully repeated every word, and she kept adding phrases simply because she delighted in the sound of his voice.

Indeed, she was not angry at all. She wished their walk would never end, that they would stroll along the lightly foaming sea for ever, in quest of new horizons.

‘I think we ought to be getting back,’ he said abruptly.

They turned around, and were astonished to see how far they had strayed from the Kurhaus, which was now a ruddy glow in the distance. But Lili’s initial concern promptly gave way to a sense of romantic defiance — what did she care about all those people crowding the terraces? She was with him, by the sea, and that was all she cared about!

‘We’d better hurry,’ Georges said, with a flustered laugh. ‘Your Mama will be wondering what’s keeping us.’

His urgency vexed her. Did he not feel as she did? Was he not utterly absorbed by her as she was by him, did he not feel that the only thing that mattered in the whole world was that they were together, now, by the soft whisper of the waves?

‘I can’t walk so fast in the sand!’ she fretted, tightening her hold on his arm.

‘Then you’ll have to lean on me. Come on,’ he said resolutely. So there was severity, too, under all that sweetness and gallantry!

‘But Georges, I simply can’t go on, I’m exhausted!’ she panted, sounding more plaintive than cross. But he only laughed and, with her arm clasped firmly in his own, swept her up the broad wooden staircase to the road, and in the end she could not help laughing too. It was rather fun, dashing about in the dark like this.

They paused to catch their breath before starting up the steps to the terrace, and while Georges felt in his pockets for the tickets, Lili shook the sand from the hem of her dress.

The interval had come to an end, and the orchestra was sounding the brass fanfares of the Queen of Sheba’s march. The crowd had thinned considerably, and Lili blushed as she and Georges made their way to the table where Madame Verstraeten, Marie and Frédérique were waiting for them. Otto and Eline had left.

‘Good gracious, where have you two been hiding?’ cried Marie, while Georges and Lili occupied the chairs that had been kept vacant for them by draping various items over the backs. ‘You’ve been ages; I went for a stroll with Paul while you were away, and Eline and Otto couldn’t hold your seats for ever.’

‘And it took tremendous effort on our part to keep them for you, I hope you realise,’ added Frédérique.

‘But where on earth have you been?’ demanded Madame Verstraeten. ‘Did you go to the Conversation Room, to watch the dancing?’

Georges proceeded to tell them of their walk along the beach, and Lili secretly admired him for his tactful replies to her mother’s queries.

. .

Henk and Vincent were the sole occupants of a table in the vicinity of the Conversation Room. Betsy, in a coquettish mood, had gone off with young Hijdrecht to take a turn about the terrace, while Eline and Otto had moved to Madame Eekhof’s table in an attempt to make amends for having passed by four times without greeting her, which misdemeanour had been pointed out by Ange.

‘I almost died this afternoon, the heat was so bad!’ muttered Vincent.

‘Eline can’t stand it either,’ rejoined Henk, and downed his glass of Pilsner.

Vincent drank nothing; he was not feeling very well and did not enjoy the mêlée. He rarely went to Scheveningen: in the morning the heat was intolerable on the scorching beach, and in the evening he seldom had the energy. But now and then he went, just for the sake of having been there.

He was pondering how to phrase the question that was uppermost in his thoughts: a request for a loan. The last time Henk had advanced him some money he had not done so in his customary spirit of good-humoured generosity, for he was becoming annoyed at Vere’s constant shortage of funds. This had not escaped Vincent, but it could not be helped, he would have to find some round-about way of raising the subject.

‘I think I shall be able to repay part of my debt later this week, Van Raat, when my remittance comes. Ah well, I suppose I shall manage somehow.’

Henk made no comment, only tapped his cane in time to the slow music: the orchestra was playing the overture to William Tell.

‘Such a nuisance that I didn’t come to an arrangement about that quinine business,’ continued Vincent. ‘But now a friend has written to me from America; he’s rich and well connected, and he says he can get me an introduction to a trading company in New York. But for the moment. . I say, Van Raat, you’d be doing me a tremendous favour if you could lend me another fifty guilders.’

Henk bridled.

‘Vere, you never stop, do you? I’m getting rather tired of this business, to tell you the truth. First five hundred guilders, then it’s a hundred, then fifty. . What on earth are you waiting for? What do you plan to do? If you don’t have financial means of your own, then why don’t you find some employment? You can’t expect me to keep subsidising you, can you?’

Vincent had anticipated reproof of one kind or another, and endured Henk’s angry outburst without protest. Henk promptly felt embarrassed at the harshness of his tone, but pressed on nonetheless:

‘All this talk about money coming from Brussels, Malaga, New York — when do you suppose it will come? It’s not that it will ruin me if you don’t pay me back, you understand, and I shan’t trouble you for it either, but it’s been nearly two thousand guilders up to now. I’m tired of it. Why don’t you stop loafing around here in The Hague and do something!’

His tone was already softening, but Vincent kept silent, his eyes fixed on his shoes, which he was tapping lightly with the tip of his cane. Henk could find nothing more to say, and was relieved when Vincent finally lifted his head and spoke in a low voice: ‘It’s unfortunate. You are quite right, of course, but it isn’t my fault, really. Circumstances, you know. Ah well, I shall see what I can do. Forgive me for troubling you.’

He rose purposefully to his feet, leaving Henk tongue-tied with embarrassment.

‘Well, au revoir then,’ said Vincent with a faint smile and a nod at Henk. ‘Au revoir, I must be off.’

Henk proffered his hand, unobserved by Vincent, who was already making his leisurely way through the crowd, languidly tipping his hat from time to time.

Henk remained alone at the table, feeling much disgruntled with himself. Soon afterwards, however, Eline and Otto returned, joking about how forlorn he looked. Betsy too made her way back to the table escorted by young Hijdrecht, whose hand she pressed warmly in farewell. It was late; many people had left before the final performance, and now that the concert was at an end the rest began to stream towards the exits. The vibrant atmosphere of music and lively chitchat had lapsed into quietude; here and there the gas lamps were already being extinguished, and only a stray group or two remained seated at the tables, enjoying the evening air, which was now tinged with briny freshness. Conversations flagged as the lingering visitors gazed out at the sea and the vast sky above, palely streaked with the Milky Way.

‘What a lovely evening! Shall we stay here a little longer?’ asked Betsy.

‘Oh, I’d rather we went for a drive,’ said Eline. ‘Unless you think it will get too late, that is, and if the horses are up to it. What do you say, Henk?’

Betsy thought it rather eccentric of Eline to want to take a tour at this time of night, but the idea appealed to her nonetheless. So they all went down to the boulevard at the back of the Kurhaus, where their carriage was waiting in line with the others.

Eline thought the wind had risen and wished to sit forward under the half-raised hood, next to Otto. Betsy instructed Dirk to make a detour through the Van Stolkpark on the way home.

The slumbering villas loomed spectrally amid dark masses of foliage stirring in the gentle breeze, and the only sounds intruding on the stillness were the thud of the horses’ hooves and the light crunch of wheels on the gravelled road. No one spoke. Betsy leant back comfortably, savouring the night air. Henk fretted inwardly about his harshness towards Vincent, who was bound to feel offended, and Eline abandoned herself to the dreamy pleasure of the moment. She had removed her hat, and now inclined her head slightly to Otto, listening to his regular breathing. In the obscurity of the half-raised hood his arm had stolen around her waist, and he drew her gently towards him so that her cheek was almost touching his shoulder, while her hand brushed his knee. She felt very happy, and could imagine nothing sweeter than sitting close to him like this, feeling his breath ruffle her hair like kisses, feeling his arm encircling her waist like a girdle of love.

And, in a surge of tender emotion, she finally allowed her head to rest on his shoulder.

‘What was the name you thought of for me?’ she whispered in his ear.

‘Nily!’ he whispered back.

She felt his arm tightening about her waist, and she repeated the new name under her breath several times, exulting in his sweet term of endearment.

. .

Mathilda van Rijssel had taken a beach tent for the summer, and had told Jeanne Ferelijn to come and join her there with her children whenever she chose. Jeanne was reluctant at first, not wishing to impose, but Mathilda had won her over, and lately she had been a frequent visitor. Sometimes they arranged to go together, leaving quite early equipped only with sandwiches, since milk for the little ones could be had from the stall. They would make themselves comfortable under the awning of the tent, in which they stored their belongings, and there they passed the time talking, reading and sewing while the youngsters set to work with their buckets and spades, digging holes in the sand nearby and building ingenious aqueducts down by the water’s edge.

Jeanne fancied that her children were growing more robust and altogether more cheerful under the influence of the Van Rijssel youngsters, and both she and Mathilda enjoyed watching the jolly little band of seven scampering like puppies back and forth between excavation sites and waterworks. She was very glad to keep company with Mathilda, in whom she had found a friend who understood her cares and offered sympathetic advice. They talked at length of their offspring, and also of their respective domestic arrangements, and Jeanne thought Mathilda extraordinarily frugal and practical for someone accustomed to living in comfortable circumstances.

However, the sunny days at the beach did not continue for long, as the Ferelijns had to leave. They were going to Boppard, where Frans was to take a cold-water cure. Jeanne was worried about the expense; there were the travelling costs to consider, and their accommodation, because how could the five of them afford to stay there for six weeks while the rent of the upstairs apartment in Hugo de Grootstraat needed to be paid as well?

Otto wished to introduce his fiancée to his sister’s family, and Madame van Erlevoort agreed to accompany them on a visit to Zwolle for a few days. Madame was in raptures about her new grandson: the prettiest, chubbiest baby in the world, with such a fine head of dark curly hair! She was grateful to Otto for having persuaded her to come along. She visited De Horze every summer, for she was so accustomed to the journey that she saw no inconvenience in it at all, but at other times she found it nigh impossible to tear herself away from The Hague. She loved her spacious home on the Voorhout with its old-fashioned opulence, a little faded now, but still cosy and comfortable. Eline found the Van Stralenburgs quite charming. Suzanne was a darling little mother, not particularly pretty and a bit careless in her dress, but so sweet-natured and so thrilled with her baby son that it was a delight to behold. As for her husband, he was an affable, humorous fellow, spoilt to the core by his wife, who fetched and carried for him with such gusto at times as to make Eline dissolve into laughter. No, she did not think she would ever manage to be like that with Otto, and trusted that he would not expect it of her! But although she warned him in jest, in the depths of her being she felt it must be heaven indeed to devote oneself heart and soul to a man the way Suzanne devoted herself to Van Stralenburg, to exist for him alone, to be his loving, faithful slave, to be wholly and utterly possessed by him. Even in her current state of facility she could not resist fantasising about still greater joys to come, and conjured up elaborate visions of herself as Otto’s adoring wife and of their life together in cosy, domestic bliss.

In this spirit of elation she saw happiness wherever she turned; everyone she knew seemed to her to be kind and considerate, they all seemed to be living in harmony, never flying into passions or showing the least sign of egotism. Scenes with Betsy were a thing of the past, she was sure, for she was now able to respond to her sister’s disparaging remarks with mild good humour, as though there were nothing in the world that could mar her newfound joy. Her nerves were greatly soothed, and she herself was surprised to note her bright, even temper, quite undisturbed by the periodical fits of melancholy and fatigue of the past. Gone were the lowering clouds of grey-and-black gloom, for the very air that she breathed seemed changed; it was azure, flower-scented, shot through with sunbeams.

For several days after his contretemps with Vincent, Henk felt very uneasy. Being uncharitable was quite at odds with the general kindliness of his disposition, and he feared that he had hurt Vere’s feelings — he might simply have been having a run of bad luck, after all. So Henk had called on Vincent to extend him the requested loan. Vincent, however, declined the offer, despite Henk’s entreaties, and instead paid back a considerable portion of what he owed. Where he had procured the funds to do so was a mystery to Henk, as was everything else about Vincent.

Returning home, Henk was berated by his wife for having been tactless with her cousin. Betsy felt vaguely apprehensive about Vere, sensing in him a secret power beside which her own dominating nature paled to insignificance, and she was determined that he should not bear a grudge against her husband. Eline was going away: she had been invited to spend the month of August at De Horze by Theodore, and would travel there with the Van Erlevoorts and the Howards late in July. It would be rather dismal in the big house on Nassauplein, mused Betsy. She did not wish to go on holiday with Henk just now, she preferred a trip to the South of Europe in the winter, after Eline’s wedding, and so it was for reasons of both distraction and diplomacy that Betsy decided to ask Vincent to stay with them for the duration of Eline’s absence. She told him how dreadfully lonely she would feel without Eline and how much she always enjoyed Vincent’s company, what with all those interesting stories he had about his wanderings, so he would be doing her a great favour by coming to stay. Vincent was secretly delighted at the prospect of temporary respite from his aimless, impecunious existence. What luxury! A whole month of peace and quiet, and it would not cost him a penny. So he accepted Betsy’s invitation, concealing his pleasure with a veneer of gracious condescension, as though he were deigning to allow her to make amends for her husband’s heartless behaviour.