Read Online Eline Vere by Louis Couperus - Free Book Online Page B

did she aspire to find any truth in them. She had no need to forget for one moment that she was observing actors and actresses, not knights and noble ladies, or that she was in a crowded theatre gazing at a brightly lit stage with painted scenery and music from a visible orchestra, not sharing the life of the hero and heroine in some poetic medieval fantasy – she enjoyed herself anyway, as long as the singing was tolerable, the acting not too coarse and the costumes becoming.
    Betsy, by contrast, went to the opera only to see and be seen, and had she known what Eline found so enjoyable, would have shrugged dismissively, saying that was childish of her. But Eline kept her enjoyment to herself, for she knew what Betsy was like and preferred to leave her sister in the belief that for her, too, the main purpose of an evening at the theatre was to see and be seen.
    She now regretted having arrived so late, for she had never seen
Le Tribut de Zamora
and consequently did not know what had gone before. Emilie had fallen silent under the influence of her fish pastry and her truffled fowl, and like Eline kept her eyes fixed on the stage.
    The ballet came to an end. Ben-Saïd and Xaïma descended from their thrones, and the king, having uttered the phrase ‘Je m’efforce en vain de te plaire!’ in recitative, launched into the romantic air:
    O Xaïma, daigne m’entendre!
Mon âme est à toi sans retour!
    The new baritone’s voice was deep and resonant, more like that of a basso cantante, and in his delivery he cast a pall of melancholy over the song.
    However, his extravagant Moorish costume made him appear rather large and burly. Neither in his pose nor in his facial expression did he convey anything resembling the passionate devotion of a lover, and in the looks he directed at the chanteuse-légère, silver-robed and with pearl-studded blonde locks, there was more fierceness than tender devotion.
    Eline was not insensitive to this shortcoming of his acting, but was nonetheless charmed by the contrast between his overbearingdemeanour and the humble, beseeching tone of his voice. She followed his song note by note, and when, at an abrupt, plangent fortissimo, the actress assumed an expression of great terror, she was astonished, thinking: Why is she so frightened? What could have happened? He doesn’t look all that wicked to me.
    During the applause she cast around the audience again, and lit on a party of gentlemen who had posted themselves on the steps leading to the stalls. She saw them peering up at her box, presumably discussing its occupants, and was about to look away in a show of gracious disinterest when she noticed that one of the men, hat and cane in hand, was smiling at her in a courteous yet familiar way. She stared at him a moment, wide-eyed, too startled to answer the greeting, and then abruptly turned away, put her hand on Betsy’s knee and whispered in her ear:
    â€˜Look, Betsy, look who’s over there!’
    â€˜Where, who do you mean?’
    â€˜There in the stalls. It’s Vincent; can’t you see?’
    â€˜Vincent!’ echoed Betsy, likewise startled. ‘Oh yes, so it is!’
    They both nodded to Vincent in greeting. He responded by peering at them through his lorgnette, whereupon Eline hid coquettishly behind her fan.
    â€˜Who’s he? Who’s Vincent?’ Emilie and Georges wanted to know.
    â€˜Vincent Vere, a first cousin of ours,’ Betsy replied. ‘He’s a bit of a bounder, I’m afraid. No one ever knows where he is; he disappears for months and then turns up again when least expected. I had no idea he was in The Hague. Oh Eline, do stop fiddling with your fan.’
    â€˜But I won’t have him staring at me!’ said Eline, readjusting her fan with a graceful turn of her arm, still hiding her face.
    â€˜May I venture to ask how long it is since you last saw your cousin?’ enquired Georges.
    â€˜Oh,