And she turned away directly, fearing that he would suspect why. [[142]]Besides, she felt very embarrassed when her glance met his, although there was not the slightest reproach in it. And it seemed to her as though there was something awkward in the bearing of the people who filled the rooms with their chat and laughter, something that was unusual and strange; but still, so she thought, only Betsy and Madame van Raat knew that Otto had proposed to her, and that she would give him her answer that evening. Whatever the others might suspect, they would not let a word escape her that could compel her to lift the veil from her secret before she chose. And this confidence in their well-bred discreetness reassured her.
Léonie however pouted, and thought Eline a tiresome girl. Paul and Etienne cried that Léo must sing, and were going to fetch her music, which the girl, with an affectation of shyness, had left in the hall. All three rushed laughing to the door, but Léonie would not permit them to look for the music, and they caused a sudden, cheerful stir, that made the whist-players in the next room look up smiling from their cards. Etienne however triumphed, and soon returned, carrying in his uplifted arms the score of The Mascotte. The young Eekhofs were persuaded, and laughing and halting they warbled, with their thin, shrill little voices, the duet of Pipo and Betinna—
“O, mon Pipo, mon Dieu, qu’t’es bien!”
whilst Etienne accompanied them, with frequently doubtful chords.
Still the duet was a success, and with rising gaiety they soon warbled, all four of them—Ange, Léonie, Etienne, and Paul—with a delightful disregard both of time and tune, now the languishing
“Un baiser est bien douce chose!”
then the comic
“Le grand singe d’Amérique!”
and their music was wafted—a fluttering of airy melody—gaily through the rooms. Eline had seated herself on a stool next the piano, and she leaned her feverish little head against it, almost deafened with Etienne’s noisy voice. Her hand kept time on her knee, thus still showing some little interest in what was going on. She heard the chords of the piano drumming in her ears, and the sound of it prevented her from thinking and coming to a decision. [[143]]Constantly she swayed from one resolution to another. Yes, she would accept; his love, though not requited, would yet be her happiness; it was her destiny. No; she could not force herself, she could not without a shadow of love allow herself to be bound in this way. And it seemed to her as though her thoughts were continually swayed to and fro, as if a clock were constantly ticking in her ears: yes—no—yes—no. It would be a relief to grasp at anything, however blindly. No; she must only decide after calm deliberation. Oh, if that clock would only cease! she could not struggle thus with herself; she had not the strength. She would reflect no longer; she would let herself be carried away by the invisible powers that drove her down the steep path; she would yield herself up entirely to the stress of circumstances; they must decide for her. And she felt a cold shiver overtake her when their glances met, and she rose.
Vincent addressed her.