Henk and Paul entered, and they too were touched by Eline’s altered appearance, but although it alarmed them, they said nothing. The old lady could not keep her eyes from Eline; she wiped her eyes, and asked Eline whether she would not like to wash her hands.
“No, never mind,” cried Eline; “I feel a little dusty, but it does not matter. Oh, Henk, my dear old Henk.”
She motioned Henk towards her, made him sit down by her side, and clasped his big head in her little hands. [[253]]
“Aren’t you—aren’t you angry with me any more, Henk?” she murmured close to his ear.
He bit his lips with emotion. “I never was—angry with you,” he stammered with a choking voice. She kissed him, then released her hold of him, gave a sigh of relief, and cast a long glance around her. Yes, she had found something of a home.
They sat down at table, but Eline had no appetite; she just touched her soup, but eat she could not at all. But she asked Paul to fill and refill her glass, for she was thirsty. The wine and her emotion brought a blush to her sallow cheeks, and when the old lady asked her why Uncle Daniel had not brought her home, she laughed, a loud and nervous laugh. Oh, she could very well journey from Brussels to the Hague by herself; uncle wanted to take her, but she refused his escort, she was so used to travelling now. Nothing was easier than travelling, she need only pack her trunks, ask a few questions here and there, and take her seat in the carriage. Why, it was nothing.
Quickly and nervously she spoke on, her glass, which she repeatedly put to her lips, clasped in her hands. She spoke about her life in Paris, in Bordeaux, and in Spain. Ah! Spain, there she lived again. Spain! the land of romance, the land of ancient Moorish chivalry and elegance. As for Granada and the Alhambra it was grand, magnificent; to the bull-fights she would never go, although Elise had laughed at her, but she could not stand it, such a dirty thing to see those dead, mangled, bleeding beasts.
Paul laughed, and she laughed too, and pitied the poor bulls, and still she spoke on; the old lady continually urged her to eat something, but she refused.
“Really not, little madam, really not, thank you. I can only drink a little, I’m so thirsty. May I have another glass?”
“Can you take so much wine, child?”