At length the door opened and Eline entered, and Jeanne could not help noticing how pretty and elegant she looked in her pink rep silk frock, simple but rich, with a neat little bow here and there on her V-shaped corsage, on the short sleeves, and at the waist. In her light-brown, back-combed hair she wore a touffe of wavy pink feathers with a small aigrette; her nimble feet were encased in small pink shoes; a single string of pearls encircled her throat. In her hands she held her long gloves, her fan of pink ostrich feathers, and her binocle set in mother-of-pearl.
Ferelyn and de Woude rose, and she shook hands with them, and kissed Emilie and Jeanne, at the same time inquiring about little Dora. She noticed how all, even Henk and Betsy, took stock of her, from head to foot, struck as they were with the rich simplicity of her dress: and when Jeanne spoke to her about her child, she smiled upon the struggling little woman, all conscious of the effect of her brilliant charms.
At table, Eline chatted pleasantly with de Woude, next to whom [[34]]she was seated. Betsy sat between her two gentlemen guests, Emilie between Henk and Frans, Jeanne between Eline and Henk. In the somewhat sombre dining-room, with its antique furniture, the table glistened with snowy damask, with silver and fine glass, whilst the rays of gas-light glinted on decanters and glasses, making the dark-red or amber-coloured wine appear to quiver under the glow of its radiance. From amid a nest of flowers in a silver basket rose the prickly crown of a splendid pine.
De Woude commenced telling Eline about the soirée at the Verstraetens’, and in glowing terms described how well Miss van Erlevoort had looked her parts, successively as Cleopatra and the sense of Sight. With Emilie, Frans, and Betsy the conversation turned on India. In this Jeanne joined every now and again, but she sat too far away, and her attention was diverted by de Woude’s chattering and the little shrill laugh of Eline, who was engaged in a mild flirtation.
Henk drank his soup and ate his fish in silence, occasionally addressing a short monosyllable to Jeanne or Emilie. And Jeanne grew more and more silent, as much from feeling ill at ease, as from fatigue at her long talk to Emilie after a day full of worries. She felt very much out of place, next to that coquettish couple. Eline in full toilet, de Woude in his evening dress, to which her own little black dress offered a shabby contrast. Still, she was glad she sat next to Henk, and in her own malaise she was conscious of a vague sort of sympathy for him, who was as much out of place there as herself.
And she could not help comparing herself with Eline and Betsy: she, struggling with her three children and her husband’s slender furlough allowance; Eline and Betsy, on the other hand, unhampered, and ever moving in a whirl of pleasures and excitement. Where was the old, happy friendship that united them in one bond, when all three used to go hand-in-hand to school, Eline with the cape of her mackintosh filled with cherries, and she herself under Betsy’s leadership giving free vent to her childish spirits in naughty answers to the governess? She felt herself repelled by that young wife, with her self-conscious, indifferent manner, and her domineering tone towards her husband; repelled also by that young girl, who appeared to her frivolous and vain in her conversation, full of brilliant nothings; and by that dandy. Eline, especially, she could not understand; in her she found something uncommon, something [[35]]indefinable and puzzling, and certain attributes which seemed ever at war with one another. Her laughter about nothing at all wearied her, and she wondered how it was that a girl who, as they said, sang so divinely, could have such an unpleasant and affected laugh. Oh! if they would but be silent for a moment!.… And in her heart she longed to be back once more in her humble apartments, with her little Dora. Why had she accepted that invitation? ’Tis true Frans had insisted, now that the child was out of danger, that she should have some change and relaxation, but this dinner-party gave her no relaxation; on the contrary, it made her nervous and confused, and she declined Henk’s offer of sweetbreads and asparagus which he recommended her.
“Did I hear aright, Miss Emilie; is Mr. de Woude a brother of yours?” Frans asked softly. It was the first time that he had met either Emilie or Georges, and he was as much struck by their resemblance as by the contrast between them.
“Certainly,” whispered Emilie; “and I am proud of him too. He is an awful swell, but a nice boy; he is engaged at the Foreign Office. Be careful, don’t you think bad of him!” she laughed, and held up her finger threateningly, as though she read Ferelyn’s thoughts.
“I have scarcely exchanged more than half a dozen words with Mr. de Woude as yet, so I should be sorry to express any opinion about him so soon,” he said, a little alarmed at Emilie’s brusqueness.
“That’s right; most people get a very different opinion of Georges after they have known him some time, from that formed when they first met him. You see, like a loving sister, I take my brother’s part. Just fill my glass, please.”