“Never mind, Eline, don’t let us fall out about Vincent. The fellow isn’t worth it. Why, you make a melodrama of it. Don’t make such an exhibition of yourself, for goodness’ sake.” [[216]]
“Yes, I know; ‘Don’t make an exhibition of yourself.’ That’s what I always get treated to when I show a little feeling. But you—you have no heart—you——”
“Eline,” said Otto softly.
Gerard was coming in with the joint. The silence was painful.
“You have forgotten the gravy, Gerard,” said Betsy.
Gerard left the room.
“Yes, you—why you would tread a person underfoot if he were only ever so little in your way, if he upset you in the least in your brutal egoism! You think of no one but yourself, and you can’t even understand that everybody else is not equally despicable, and——”
“Eline!” said Otto again, as Gerard was coming in once more, this time with a gravy tureen.
“Oh, hold your tongue, do, with your ‘Eline! Eline!’ Qu’est-ce que me fait cet homme! Betsy ne veut pas le voir—mais je t’assure, que Vincent se meurt. Il s’est endormi dans ma chambre, pâle comme un linge, essoufflé par la fatigue, que lui a causé cette stupide promenade recommandée par Reyer. Et c’est pour cela, que je ne veux pas souffrir, qu’on l’accuse d’indiscrétion et de tout cela. S’il ne fut pas si malade, il ne resterait pas longtemps chez nous—j’en suis sure …!”
She spoke passionately, with eyes aflame with rage, and the French words fell from her lips sharp and cutting as needles, haughty and savage.