“Well, Elly, have you committed any folly yet; anything outrageously mad?” asked Vincent, mocking her voice.
Round the piano it was quieter. Léonie was seated beside Emilie, and was giving her a vivid description of a little dance at the van Larens’. Etienne had turned himself round on the piano-stool and was joking with Ange, who had tumbled on the ottoman in a burst of laughter, and covered her face with both her little hands. Paul joined in the laughter and turned over the pages of music.
“How? what? how do you mean?” stammered Eline, who did not understand.
“Did you not tell me, a little while ago, that you were about to do something desperately absurd? now I ask you whether you have hit upon anything yet? I should like to join you.”
His banter grated on her ears. In her present unusually serious mood, the remembrance of that period of frivolity seemed to her like an echo of vanished wishes. No; she no longer had any desire to give herself over to equivocal absurdities; she would be sensible and practical, as Otto was. Equivocally absurd, her disappointed passion—if she might give that name to her folly—had been more than enough; in future she would not let herself be carried away. And she crushed the feeling of bitter remorse that rose in her heart with the sharp sting of an adder.
While she was searching for some light phrase in answer to [[144]]Vincent’s question, a sudden alarm seized her. A new thought struck her. No, it was no longer possible; she could not go back. Otto, Betsy, all expected her to accept; they could not help doing so. If she did not intend to accept him, why then did she have an express invitation sent him? It was settled. It could not be otherwise, and after her sudden alarm a great calm came over her whole being.
“But, my dear girl, I believe you suffer from absent-mindedness,” cried Vincent laughing. He had asked her why Georges de Woude was not there, and she had languidly replied—
“Oh, yes; that is true.”
Now she laughed in her turn; she was coming to in the blissfulness of that calm.
“I beg your pardon, I have a little—” and she placed her hand on her forehead.