It was good for her health, she declared, when people spoke to her wonderingly about those walks; she walked much too little, and feared she would be growing as stout as Betsy, if she always rode. Doctor Reyer thought those morning promenades an excellent idea.
In the Bosch she met occasional promenaders, mostly the same people—an old gentleman in a fur cloak, who was always coughing. But Fabrice she met but rarely. He was at rehearsal probably, she thought, whenever she did not see the baritone, and then she would return home in a disappointment that made her feel very fatigued, longing for her boudoir, her cosy fire, her piano. But still she continued her walks, and made the discovery that Fabrice took his constitutionals regularly on Fridays; other days seemed to be very uncertain. She might and she might not see him. And in order to meet him she did not mind rising early, sometimes still quite exhausted after a soirée that had not been over till three o’clock; or tired out with dancing, and sleepy, with blue circles under her weary eyes. ’Twas true she saw Fabrice very often now at the opera, from a box, or the stalls, when she went with the Verstraetens, or with Emilie de Woude and Georges; once she had invited the Ferelyns. But yet, now she saw him quite differently, not separated from her by the footlights and the ideal conditions of the stage; now she saw him right before her, not three paces removed from her, like an ordinary person.
On the days that she met Fabrice, the roomy vault of the besnowed trees seemed too small to contain her happiness. She saw him approach with his manly, elastic step, the hat slightly on one side, the muffler fluttering from his shoulder, and he passed by, just glancing at her or the dogs, who sniffed at him, with careless eyes. When, after that, she turned back and returned home along the Maliebaan, she was filled with a joy that made her bosom heave, that brought a flush to her cold cheeks, and made her forgetful of all fatigue; and on arriving home she would give vent to that wealth of happiness with a jubilant outburst of song. The whole day she remained in a bright, happy humour, and a charming vivacity took the place of her usual languid grace. Her eyes sparkled, she joked and laughed continually, felt irritated at Henk’s lazy good-nature and Ben’s sleepy quietness, and teased both father and son, making the hall re-echo with her ringing laughter, and the stairs creak under her, as she almost bounded down them. [[101]]
One Friday morning, when she saw Fabrice approaching her, she formed a resolution. She thought it very childish of her that she never had the courage to look him straight in the face. He was an actor, after all, and no doubt he was used to being looked at by ladies who met him in the street. He came nearer, and with something haughtily audacious, and almost defiantly, she threw her little head backwards, and looked him straight in the face. He returned that glance, as usual, with one of complete indifference, and walked on. Then, in an excess of courage, she looked back. Would he? No, he walked on, with his hands in his pockets, and she only saw his broad back gradually disappearing.
That morning she hurried home, humming to herself between her closed lips, about which there hovered an expression of roguish playfulness. She had no thought for anything or any one but him, Fabrice, and she rang the bell at the Nassauplein. Grete answered the door; Leo and Faust rushed inside. Oh, how she burst out laughing! she had forgotten to take the dogs back to the stables. Loudly resounded their barking through the hall, like a duo of basses.
Out rushed Betsy from the dining-room, bursting with rage.
“Heavens above, Eline, are you mad, bringing those wretched dogs in here? You know I can’t bear them. I can’t understand what makes you do such a thing, if I don’t like it! Or am I no longer mistress in my own house? Take them away, please, and at once.”
Her voice sounded hard and rough, as one who is giving orders to an inferior.
“They are thirsty, and I want to let them drink,” said Eline, with calm hauteur.
“And I will not have them drink here, I tell you! Look at that hall, look at the carpet, dirty marks everywhere!”