She looked at him smiling, but almost anxiously, in suspense at what he would answer. She often felt some fear at what he might think of her, as though by one thoughtless word she might lose him; for she did not yet understand how and why he loved her.
“Oh, don’t for heaven’s sake place me on such a lofty pedestal,” he answered kindly. “I feel myself so very commonplace, so little raised above others; you must not put yourself so far beneath me. You not quite unworthy of me! What puts that idea into your head? Little silly! Shall I tell you something? I really don’t think that you know yourself.”
Could he be right? she wondered; did she not know herself? A glad surprise filled her; she thought she knew herself so well. Maybe there was yet something in her soul of which she knew nothing, something perhaps from which her love for him flowed? Was it left for him to disclose to her her own inward nature?
“Oh, Otto——” she began.
“What?” he asked softly.
“Nothing. I like you so much when you say anything about yourself and me,” she murmured, full of a blissful feeling to which she could give no utterance. His hand gently pressed her arm, and a tremor passed through her, as they walked on amid the laughing, pushing throng between the tables, stared at by all who knew them. [[165]]
“Look at Erlevoort and Eline there, walking blissfully side by side, perdus dans le même rêve. They don’t see us again!” cried Léonie, almost regretfully, as she passed by them with Hydrecht.
Eline and Otto all at once heard their names softly mentioned. They looked round and saw Madame Verstraeten with Marie, Lili, and Frédérique seated at a little table. Georges de Woude had already risen and nodded to them, smiling. They came nearer and shook hands.
“Hallo, Freddie!” said Otto, surprised.
“Madame Verstraeten was kind enough to ask me to come,” she answered, by way of explanation. “Otto, we have just received a letter from the Horze: they are all quite well, and they want to be remembered to you. To you too, Eline.”