“I, Georges de Woude van Bergh, humbly apologize to —— for having—” and he repeated every word, while their echo vibrated pleasingly upon her ear.
For she was not quite so angry as she wanted to appear. It seemed to her as though their walk would never end, as if they would continue strolling along that light surging strand until they should come within sight of a fresh horizon.
“Come, we must return,” she said suddenly; “we are going too far.”
They turned back, and were quite frightened when they saw how far away the Kurhaus lay, bathed in a ruddy glow of light; but to her that alarm suddenly melted into a tenderness, a soft indifference; what cared she for the others over there? they were together by the sea.
“Lili, really we must hurry,” said he laughing, somewhat confused. “Your mother will wonder where we have got to.”
This time she felt quite hurt at his hurrying; he could not be sensible, then, of that tender indifference; he did not feel as she did, that they were together by the sea, and that all the rest was nothing, nothing!
“I really cannot trudge at such a pace through the sand,” she said, a little vexed, and she clung closer to his arm. But he was inexorable; she had better lean on his support if she could not get along fast enough. He certainly could be surprisingly obstinate under the veil of his gentle affability.
“But, Georges, I cannot really, I am tired out!” she panted peevishly, although the would-be anger in her voice melted away in a coaxing tone. He, however, laughingly rushed up the broad steps, nearly dragging her after him, with her arm clasped fast in his own, and really she could not help laughing. It was very funny, certainly, rushing along in that way in the darkness.
Somewhat more slowly they ascended the little steps leading to the terrace, and while Georges was searching for the enclosure tickets, Lili shook the sand from her dress.
The second part of the programme had commenced, and the band was blaring out the metallic fanfares of the march in the Reine de Saba; a few promenaders were still about, but there was no longer a crowd. They hurried with apparent indifference, although [[169]]Lili’s cheeks were red as fire, to their little table. Madame Verstraeten was seated alone with Marie and Frédérique; Otto and Eline were gone.