Eline Vere

by Louis Couperus

  ‘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, wi
th 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 themsel
ves 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.