Free Eline Vere by Louis Couperus Page A

Van Raat on the morrow, as he had a matter he wished to discuss with him. Betsy said in that case he should come for coffee in the afternoon, because Van Raat was always out in the morning. Vincent accepted the invitation with gratitude, and began to talk about the opera.
    â€˜Fabrice? Oh, he’s the baritone, isn’t he? Yes, a good voice, but what an unsightly, fat fellow.’
    â€˜Do you think so? I don’t agree, I thought he looked rather well on stage!’ countered Emilie.
    â€˜Miss de Woude, you cannot be serious!’
    Emilie abided by her opinion and Eline had to laugh at their difference. Then the bell sounded for the fourth act, and Vincent took his leave, declining Georges’ kind offer of his seat in the box.
    â€˜Oh, thank you, much obliged, but I wouldn’t wish to deprive you of your seat. Besides, I can see very well from the stalls. So we shall meet tomorrow, then? Au revoir, Betsy, Eline . . . au plaisir, Miss de Woude . . . a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr de Woude.’
    He bowed, pressed Georges’ hand and sauntered off, swinging his slim bamboo cane.
    â€˜Isn’t he odd?’ said Eline, shaking her head.
    â€˜I’m always afraid he’ll do something to embarrass us!’ Betsy whispered in Emilie’s ear. ‘But as I said, he’s been quite well-behaved until now. I was nice to him a moment ago to be on the safe side: I wouldn’t want to rub him the wrong way. You never know . . .’
    â€˜I can’t say he’s my most favourite person!’ said Emilie. They all rose to return to their box.
    â€˜Come, come, Emmy, you’re only saying that because he didn’t like the look of Fabrice!’ teased Georges.
    Emilie shrugged, and they passed into the vestibule.
    â€˜Oh, so there is not to be a fifth act! I thought there would be five!’ said Eline, almost crestfallen, until De Woude quickly told her how the opera ended.
    . . .
    The fourth act opened with a scene in the moonlit gardens of Ben-Saïd. Eline listened intently to Manoël’s cavatina, to his duet with Xaïma, and to their subsequent trio with Hermosa, but her interest mounted when the Moorish king appeared at the palace gate, where he ordered his warriors to dispatch Manoël and then himself seized the unwilling Xaïma and dragged her away with him in a sudden burst of rage. The end of the opera, where Ben-Saïd is stabbed by the mother seeking to save her daughter, affected her more than she would have cared to admit. In his scenes with both women the new baritone acted with such fire and vehemence as to lend the melodrama a glow of romantic truth, and when, fatally wounded, he subsided on to the steps of the pavilion, Eline took up her operaglasses for a closer look at his darkened visage with the black beard and half-closed eyes.
    The curtain fell, but the four actors were called back, and Eline saw him once more, taking his bows with an air of cool detachment, in great contrast to the gracious smiles of the tenor, the contralto, and the soprano.
    The audience rose; the doors of the boxes swung open.
    Georges assisted the ladies with their cloaks, and they proceeded along the corridor and down the steps to wait by the glass doors for their carriage. Presently the doorman cupped his hand to his mouth and announced its arrival with a long drawn-out shout:
    â€˜Van Raa . . . aat!’
    â€˜Personally, I don’t believe
Le Tribut de Zamora
is one of Gounod’s best operas; what about you, Eline?’ asked Emilie when they were seated in the carriage. ‘No comparison with his
Faust
, or his
Romeo et Juliet
.’
    â€˜I believe you are right,’ murmured Eline, loath to show how moved she had been. ‘But it’s difficult to judge a piece of music the very first time you hear it. I thought some of the melodies were rather sweet. Besides, we only saw half of it.’
    â€˜I rather like seeing only a few