And she was all a-sparkle with sheer wantonness of exuberance; she felt a secret enjoyment at the thought of Fabrice, and looked Vincent boldly in the eyes; he could not guess her thoughts. [[118]]
He burst out in laughter; the lively playfulness which had taken the place of her languid grace during their conversation, the brightness in her eyes, and the tapping of her little hand on her knee, amused him even more than her words, and yet they were sympathetic enough with his own ideas; in them there lurked a longing for change, which was very much like his own. They looked at one another smilingly, and under the soft but concentrated glance of his eyes, Eline felt something of the slow, ensnaring fascination of that of a serpent.
“What a striking resemblance to my dear papa,” she thought, almost surprised at the sympathy she felt for Vincent, as they rose at the sound of the dinner-bell.
CHAPTER XIII.
Madame Verstraeten was at home with Lili, who had caught a severe cold, while Marie and Frédérique, skates in hand, accompanied Paul and Etienne to the Ysclub, round by the Laan van Meerdervoort. The old gentleman sat reading in the warm conservatory, in the midst of the glossy green foliage of the azaleas and the palms. Lili was not in her usual good humour; she answered her mother in languid monosyllables, and nearly suffocated herself, trying to repress her coughing. For she was better, she had declared, and coughed no more; it would do her no good to stay at home any longer, and she would go out in a day or two.
And yet, notwithstanding that determination, out yonder it seemed to her like Siberia, when she saw the frozen snow lying hard and white on the bare branches and on the unsoiled marble-like paths. Madame Verstraeten continued her crochet work, and the deft movements of the crochet needle irritated Lili, just as the regular turning of the pages of her father’s book irritated her. She herself did nothing, and her hands lay wearily in her lap, but however much she enjoyed such a dolce far niente at other times, now it wearied her terribly, and yet she felt no desire for any occupation. Secretly she envied Freddie and Marie’s good health and spirits, while she was delicate and was obliged to guard [[119]]against the slightest draught. But when her sister hesitated to accompany Freddie and Etienne, she herself had induced her to go and fetch her skates; Marie could not always stay at home with her if she were foolish enough to be ill, and besides, mamma would keep her company.
A sigh escaped her lips as she took a lozenge from the little box before her, and the old lady looked at her furtively, well knowing that in her present excitable mood any show of motherly anxiety on her part would irritate Lili more than the utmost indifference.
So the afternoon slowly passed under Lili’s quiet pouting, and no one came to disturb the dull peacefulness that prevailed until past four, when the bell rang and Dien showed Georges de Woude inside. Lili felt annoyed; Dien might have announced him first, she thought. Surely he was not so intimate with them as all that! And while Madame Verstraeten gave him her hand, she greeted him somewhat coolly, slowly reaching her little white fingers towards him—slowly too, following, when her mother conducted him to the conservatory, to the old gentleman. Her parents were already sitting down with him, when she languidly pushed up a cane-chair, and as languidly sat down in it, as though to show him that his visit disturbed her, and that she joined them merely for courtesy’s sake.
At the first few words he addressed to her parents she looked away with somewhat affected absent-mindedness into the garden, as though she took no interest in their conversation. Madame Verstraeten had commenced with a question about Berlin, where he had been attached to the Legation for three months, but he replied rather briefly; half addressing himself to Lili, and by turns looking at her and her mother, he inquired after her health; had she really been seriously ill? Lili muttered something, whilst her mother replied; but it struck her that he asked the question with a certain anxiety, not as a mere commonplace, as if indeed he felt an interest in her welfare. What could it matter to him whether she was ill or not? But he did not seem to remark her coolness, when, seeing the subject was not attractive to her, he again turned his easy flowing conversation to Berlin, and in his agreeable manner replied to her parents’ questions. Each time he looked at her, as if to draw her into the conversation, and out of courtesy she now and again smiled a little, and asked some trifling question, as indifferently as possible. [[120]]