How he rattled on, she thought, as she had thought before, when he once began to talk; but still, it was as though that thought was rather a forced one, and not entirely spontaneous. He rattled, it was true; but there was something pleasant and sociable in his chat—something that, whether she admitted it or not, entertained her after the tiresome afternoon she had spent by the side of her knitting mother. He did not talk badly, a little excited, but tiresome he was not, and—it seemed as though she had never before remarked it—he was not so terribly affected after all. His accent was perhaps a little too studied, but that was all; his gestures were simple, and through his easy manner there shone an evident sincerity whenever he turned to her. And his dress, it was faultlessly neat, perhaps too much so; still it was not that of a coxcomb, she must admit it was simple enough.
He chatted on as Mr. Verstraeten asked him about his engagements, and whilst she looked at him, she unconsciously smiled at him with more cordiality. It did not escape him, and once more he ventured to ask her, did she feel better now, did she not go out yet? What could it matter to him? again she thought, almost annoyed; he had asked her once out of politeness, that was more than sufficient, but still she answered him, and told him her cough was better—a little cough quickly belied her words—and that she was feeling much easier under the kindly care of mamma and Marie. He felt grateful for those words, but he had heard the suppressed cough, and it was on his lips to caution her to be careful—the weather was so bleak—but he did not do so; she might think it was no business of his, and he asked after Marie.
“Oh yes,” answered Lili; “she has gone skating with Frédérique and Etienne van Erlevoort and with Paul. Don’t you pity me that I have to stay at home again, like the sick child?”
“Are you so very sorry that you could not go? Are you fond of skating?”
“Yes; that is to say, I like it very much; but speaking frankly, I don’t know much about it. Marie and Freddie skate much better than I; they go curling and twisting about while I can only just amble along; I am too frightened, you know, and——”
“But do not Paul or Etienne assist you then?”
“Oh, Paul says frankly that he thinks it tiresome to skate with such a duffer, and Etienne—yes, I must admit—he will sacrifice himself for five minutes sometimes.” [[121]]
“But, Lili,” said Madame Verstraeten, “if you cannot skate, it is certainly tiresome to them.”
“I was more polite in my time,” said the old gentleman.
“Oh, I make them no reproaches,” said Lili; “I am only telling you the facts,” and she gave a little cough.