Eline Vere

by Louis Couperus

  ‘And you’re the one who drove her to it!’ fumed Henk, with his hand to his painful eye.

  ‘Oh, so now it’s my fault, is it?’

  ‘Van Raat, there are a few things we ought to discuss,’ interposed Frans. ‘I came here without a moment’s delay, of course, because I thought you would be frantic with worry.’

  ‘My dear chap, I can’t thank you enough.’

  ‘Never mind about that. The thing is, Eline has positively declared that she has no intention of going back. Needless to say, an affair such as this is bound to be talked about. People will gossip, which is most disagreeable! Gossip only makes things worse. The servants know what has transpired, I presume?’

  Betsy cast Frans an approving look for raising that point.

  ‘Well, it can’t be helped!’ said Henk impatiently. ‘People always gossip.’

  ‘That’s true. Still, I think it would be a good idea for you to come round to our house in the morning. See if you can persuade Eline to return home – at least if she’s well enough, because she seemed rather feverish to me when I left. I suggest you let her get some rest now, but come over as soon as you can in the morning.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Henk, looking dazed.

  ‘I believe she may have been delirious when I left the house in search of a cab, but she seemed very determined. She gave me her house keys, and kept saying that she would never go back. She also asked me to settle her affairs here,’ he said, looking askance at Betsy, ‘and to arrange for her clothes to be sent on, but I think she said all this in the heat of passion. In any case, I hope we will have come to some amicable arrangement by this time tomorrow.’

  ‘Look here, Ferelijn,’ said Betsy uneasily, ‘I hope you realise how upsetting this is for me. Goodness knows this is not the first time Eline and I have fallen out, but who could have imagined that she would go and do something so silly? And as you say: it will be the talk of The Hague! So if you can manage to persuade her to change her mind, I’d be eternally grateful. Our house is always open to her. As for her keys, you can leave them here. Yes, I expect it will turn out all right in the end. I’m so glad it was you she went to! But can you imagine – in the middle of the night, in that storm? How could she do it? How on earth could she do it?’

  Frans and Henk resumed their conversation, and Henk suggested he stay the night, as Frans had sent away the cab and the storm had not abated. Gerard showed Frans to Henk’s dressing room for a dry set of clothes.

  ‘Henk, you might ask Ferelijn discreetly how much he paid for that cab,’ Betsy suggested when she was alone with her husband once more. ‘It must have cost him a pretty penny, and it was very kind of him to come at once.’

  ‘Discreetly, you say – you don’t know the meaning of the word!’ spluttered Henk, and he left the room, shuddering to think of what people were going to say.

  …

  Early the next morning Henk drove with Frans Ferelijn to an oculist. There was slight damage to the veins in one eye, and after the removal of a small splinter of glass he felt greatly relieved. His cheek, however, displayed a nasty gash.

  ‘I look as if I’ve been to war!’ he jested grimly when they were back in the cab on their way to Hugo de Grootstraat. ‘And indeed, my dear Frans, at the moment my house does seem like a battlefield! I, for one, have had quite enough of it.’

  Ferelijn’s heart went out to Henk, whose kindly, honest face now wore an expression of utter despondency.

  Henk was clearly dreading his interview with Eline. In the event, however, he was spared the ordeal. Eline refused categorically to see him, and from the adjoining room he listened anxiously as she remonstrated with Frans. Why had Frans brought Henk to see her, and why had he taken her keys? Was there no one she could trust? Not even Frans?

  Eline sounded hoarse and strident, and it seemed to Henk that she must still be delirious. He could hear Jeanne trying to pacify her, although he could not distinguish the words, then Eline sobbing with self-recrimination and remorse.

  Presently Frans returned, raising his shoulders apologetically.

  ‘She won’t see you. You’d better resign yourself to it for the moment, as she seems to be running a high fever. Do you think Reijer might still be at home at this hour? Perhaps you could drive there and ask him to come over.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Henk forlornly. ‘I’ll do that.’

  Eline moaned softly as she lay on the couch, her limbs twitching restlessly under the woollen comforter. Jeanne had told the children to keep out of the way.

  ‘You’re so good to me, Jany! But, you see, I can’t possibly stay here and put you to so much trouble!’ she said. ‘You haven’t much room to spare; I’d only get in your way. I shall go to a hotel this afternoon.’

  Jeanne sat down on the edge of the couch and took Eline’s hands in hers.

  ‘Eline, please be sensible. Don’t you worry your head about anything like that. You’re ill, you know. You can stay here, honestly. I’m not saying you must go back to Betsy’s house, but I certainly don’t want you going to a hotel.’

  ‘Yes, but what if I’m ill – not that I think I am, but you seem to think so. If I’m ill I shan’t be able to leave again for some time. And – and – oh, I know it’s just not possible. Dear, dear Jany, please forgive me for saying this, but it would be beyond your means, and–’

  Jeanne’s eyes filled with tears.

  ‘If that’s what’s troubling you, Eline, you can stay with us and pay for your keep. Just don’t mention the word hotel any more, I beg you. I shan’t be embarrassed; indeed you’re welcome to share in the expenses if that makes you feel better. But do please stay.’

  Eline gave a start and shook her tousled locks, which Jeanne tried in vain to brush away from her face. Then she flung her arms around Jeanne and clung to her, the better to savour the flood of sympathy.

  ‘Oh, you’re such an angel!’ she cried. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings in any way, but yes, I should love to stay. May I? You are so kind, so very kind!’

  …

  That afternoon Madame van Raat and Madame Verstraeten called at the Ferelijns’, their minds set on persuading Eline to return to Nassauplein. Betsy came too, having been prevailed upon by Jeanne to apologise to her sister. Eline, however, refused flatly to receive them. In the adjoining room the visitors held their breath as they listened to Eline protesting to Jeanne in no uncertain terms that she would not see anyone, whoever they were. Jeanne – yes, she would see Jeanne, but nobody else!

  The news soon spread among their friends and acquaintances that Eline had fallen out with the Van Raats, and that she had sought refuge, as it were, with the Ferelijns. The fact that she had dined with the Hovels the previous evening roused considerable curiosity, and young Hijdrecht, who had been present at the dinner, was reported as saying that there had been some disagreement between the sisters. He had been seated beside Eline, and had never been so bored by her company as that evening: she had hardly said a word. The details of the dispute were unclear, only – and of this everyone was certain – Eline had been seen in a cab on that stormy night in the company of a nightwatchman, or of a young man; strange goings-on, to say the least.

  Eline had displayed a penchant for eccentricity before, what with her habit of taking solitary walks in the Wood last winter – hardly the thing for a respectable young lady – and then there was that unfortunate business with Van Erlevoort, and now this nocturnal escapade with a young man and a nightwatchman! Such a shame it was, too, for she was such a sweet girl, really, so pretty and so elegant! But then the Veres had always been a trifle eccentric, had they not?

  Betsy agonised over all the gossip, which she could sense was spreading apace, and as she scarcely dared show her face in public, she had recourse only to the Verstraetens and Emilie de Woude for company.

  XXV

  A month had passed since Eline’s arrival at the Ferelijns’, as Jeanne had refused to let her go until she was fully recovered.
Reijer’s diagnosis was that Eline had caught a severe cold which, if neglected, might prove fatal, and Jeanne nursed her with fond indulgence. She had turned Frans’ small study into a bedroom for Eline, despite the latter’s protestations that she could easily go to a hotel. Frans too had assured her that he did not need the room, as his specialist in Amsterdam had advised him to work less hard, and so she hugged Jeanne with passionate gratitude and stayed on, her violent fits of coughing echoing grievously throughout the small upstairs apartment.

  Her cough was now subsiding, and the pain in her chest had eased. However, she had grown very thin and hollow-eyed, with a sallow hue to her features. She settled herself in the ample chair close to the small stove and looked out of the window, listlessly following the progress of the butcher, greengrocer and milkman from door to door and watching the housemaids take charge of the deliveries: a plump red-haired one on this doorstep, a scrawny one on the other, and on the third the mistress of the house in person, wearing a black apron and a dingy lace cap.

  At length she stood up, coughing, and glanced in the small looking glass, which had a plain black frame, as plain as everything else in the Ferelijns’ abode. She was expecting a visitor, someone she had not seen for some time, and she studied her reflection with misgiving, wondering what sort of impression she would make. Betsy had written a long letter to their uncle, Daniel Vere, who had acted as Eline’s guardian while she was still under age. As he had still been single when old Aunt Vere died, the possibility of Eline going to live with him in his Brussels residence had not arisen at the time, but he had recently married. He seldom came to The Hague, and when he received Betsy’s letter informing him that Eline had left the house at Nassauplein, his first reaction had been dismissive: why should this be of any concern to him? On second thought, however, he replied to the letter and also wrote to Eline, saying he should like to see her. His letter came as a very welcome surprise, for she was becoming increasingly fretful about what she should do once she was well again, and thought he might be able to advise her. So she responded in the most amicable terms, saying she would be glad to receive him at his convenience, so long as he did not expect her to make her peace with Betsy and return to the Van Raats – under no circumstances would she do that, for she had learnt to her cost that Betsy and she simply did not get along, never mind who was to blame.

  Vere promptly telegraphed the date and hour of his intended visit. And now Eline was waiting for him to arrive, anxiously surveying her gaunt features in the glass, fearing that her power to win every man’s heart with her beguiling charm had deserted her. She drew the curtain a little, to temper the light falling on her face. Come afternoon, Jeanne showed the visitor to Eline’s room. He was tall and spare, with the somewhat languorous gestures that were so typical of the Veres, with the exception of Betsy, who was more like her mother. Eline thought he looked agreeably distinguished and worldly in his fur coat, and felt a trifle embarrassed about receiving her uncle in these humble surroundings. She rose and stepped forward with queenly demeanour, while Jeanne withdrew, closing the door behind her.

  ‘Hello, Uncle!’ said Eline softly, unsure of what lay ahead. ‘I am very glad to see you, very glad indeed.’

  She extended her hand and motioned him to a chair. He sat down, looked at her intently, smiled a little and finally shook his head from side to side.

  ‘For shame, Eline!’ he began. ‘How sad you have made me. What a disagreeable state of affairs this is, my dear cousin.’

  ‘I presume Betsy had plenty to say about me in her letter?’ she asked, hiding her curiosity with an air of indifference.

  ‘Betsy’s news came like a bolt from the blue. I had no idea you were so out of sympathy with your sister. I thought you were happy at the Van Raats’. Last spring I received a happy letter from you saying you were to marry Van Erlevoort, and now I’m told that you broke off your engagement some months ago. But why that should lead to your taking flight in this unfortunate manner is beyond me. My dear Eline, how could you allow yourself to be so carried away by your emotions?’

  He spoke with some caution, gauging her mood, for he did not wish to antagonise her. The news of her dramatic flight had given him the idea that she must be exceedingly impetuous and hot-tempered, and he did not quite trust her subdued manner, thinking she might suddenly leap up and do something desperate. But she maintained her even composure and responded in cordial tones.

  ‘Uncle, the fact that I ran away from Betsy and Henk does not mean that everything I do is unconsidered and foolish. It’s true that I was very angry with Betsy, and with hindsight I am sorry that I lost my temper, I am sorry that I didn’t simply turn my back on her and arrange to move out of her house on the morrow, when things had calmed down. But I think you will agree that there are moments in life when one – well, when one forgets oneself!’

  ‘So have you considered going back?’

  ‘I thought I made my decision perfectly clear to you in my letter,’ she replied, with an edge of disdain.

  ‘So you did, but I was hoping – I thought you might reconsider.’

  ‘Never!’ she said resolutely.

  ‘Very well then, we need not pursue the subject any further. I am sorry I mentioned it. But you sound very determined; I hope you have given ample consideration to the consequences of your decision.’

  ‘Certainly!’ she said, and broke into coughing.

  ‘In that case some alternative will have to be found. First you must get rid of that nasty cough, of course, but do you have any plans after that?’

  Eline’s pride dissolved into anxiety.

  ‘Well, I have been doing a lot of thinking. I haven’t made up my mind yet, but I might find somewhere to live by myself. I can afford it, and anyway I’m not a spendthrift. I could hire a live-in maid.’

  In her fancy she saw herself living in a cramped upstairs apartment like this one, and tears came to her eyes.

  ‘That sounds reasonable. Here in The Hague?’

  ‘I suppose so. I’m not sure yet. Or some smaller town, perhaps.’

  ‘Ah well, we can leave that till later. Because, you see, I have a proposition to make.’

  He took her hand and looked at her through narrowed eyes. She thought he might invite her to join him in Brussels, and wondered whether she should accept.

  ‘Your Aunt Eliza and I are planning to go abroad for a few months. It makes me laugh to call her “your aunt”, because as you know Eliza is only five years older than you. So when you have been introduced you will be calling each other by your first names. We are first going to Paris, and then on to Spain, probably. What I was wishing to propose, my dear, is that you accompany us. A change of scene would do you good after all you’ve been through. We might stay away all winter, possibly longer. If you get bored you could always return to Holland and find yourself an apartment, as you suggested earlier. You have not met my wife yet, but I dare say you will find her sympathetic: she is lively and gay, a real française. How does my proposal appeal to you?’

  Eline’s eyes widened. To be sure, she could do with a change of scene! Fancy travelling abroad all though the winter! She had a sense of glorious sunshine flooding into the sombre darkness of her soul. Oh, variety at last! And variety was life itself, as Vincent was wont to say.

  ‘Oh, Uncle, I don’t know what to think!’ she began, with feeling. ‘I am not very cheerful these days, and I hardly think I’d make a good travelling companion.’

  ‘My dear girl, you never can tell. Finding oneself in different surroundings and meeting new people often has the effect of lifting the spirits. Variety is the first necessity of life.’

  She gave a start, then smiled warmly at him. He sounded just like Vincent! She felt a surge of gratitude, how very kind of him to make her this offer! And how pleasant his manner was! Yes, she would accept – gladly!

  ‘You can come and stay with us in Brussels first, before we leave. We do quite a lot of travelling, and we do it economically, without
denying ourselves any pleasures – we’re rather good at getting by – and as for you, you’re comfortably off, aren’t you? An excellent catch, as they say!’ he concluded, laughing.

  ‘An excellent catch? Me? I’m not all that rich, you know, and not all that eligible any more either,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘I’m getting old – an old maid.’

  He spoke with blithe assurance: their trip would cure her of all those gloomy notions. After Jeanne had been told of the plan he took his leave, saying he still had to call on Van Raat at Nassauplein.

  Eline remained alone while Jeanne saw him out. A multitude of thoughts danced about her mind like so many rose petals, sunbeams, iridescent soap bubbles. She looked out of the window, but all she could see was clouds of dust whirling up from the road. The grey autumn sky made her shiver, and she turned away. As her gaze slid around the room she was struck by the sight of Frans Ferelijn’s tear-off calendar up on the wall. The date was printed in bold type: November 1st.

  That was the very date she and Otto had picked for their wedding! She stared at the calendar, transfixed. Then a wave of wild, hopeless anguish swept over her, and she flung herself into her armchair, sobbing piteously.

  …

  The Eekhofs, the Hijdrechts and the Van Larens were all agog at the news: Eline Vere was going abroad with her uncle, Daniel Vere, who lived in Brussels and had only been married a year. Henk and Betsy, with their young son, would also be leaving The Hague for some time: they were thought to be travelling to Algiers.

  XXVI

  Eighteen months had passed. The Verstraetens’ residence on Prinsessegracht was splendidly decorated from top to bottom, with the vestibule, dining room, salons and conservatory made to resemble lush winter gardens by means of artfully disposed palm trees in the angles of the walls, which formed pyramids of verdure flanked by red and white clusters of azaleas. For there was a bride in the house, and it was time for celebration.

  The reception was in full swing, with a jostling multitude of friends and relations come to bestow their good wishes. In the main salon the easy chairs had been arranged in a semicircle on either side of the sofa, with their backs to the greenery obscuring the garden window. Georges de Woude van Bergh and Lili Verstraeten stood in attendance by the sofa, like a princely pair holding court. The twenty-year-old bride, wearing white silk with orange blossom in her hair, was radiant with joy, and did not tire of breathing sweet words of thanks to all who came to congratulate her.