Moths by Ouida — page 192: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

188 } MOTHS with the murmur of the.sea; she had said truly that she now strove to stifle thought, but her nature was meditative, and she - could never wholly succeed, ‘‘ Perhaps I am not right, perhaps I do not do all that I might,” she mused; and her conscience reproached her with harshness and hatred against the man whom she had sworn to honor. ‘¢ Honor!” she thought, bitterly; what a world of mockery lay in that one little word! Yet he was her husband; according to his light he had been generous to her; she would have to bear his children, and his name was her name forever. It would be better if they could live in peace. i When his friends had ridden back to Villiers, and his sister was still dreamily wandering through many musical memories, Ser- gius Zouroff was standing on the terrace, looking seaward, and calculating how quickly his yacht would be able tc come round on the morrow from Cherbourg. Midnight chimes were sounding softly in his Flemish carillon in the clock-tower of his chateau. Vera looked at him, hesitated, then rose and approached him, ‘¢ Sergius,” she said, in a low voice, ‘‘ 1 spoke wrongly to you to day. I beg your pardon.” Zouroft started a little, and looked down in surprise at the ‘proud delicate face of his wife as the moonlight fell on it. ‘*You are not going to make me a scene?” he said, irritably and apprehensively. On the lofty yet wistful mood of Vere the words fell like drops of ice. A momentary recollection had moved her to something like hope that her husband might make her duty less penance and less pain to her, by some sort of sympathy and comprehension. She had bent her temper to the concession of a humility very rare with her, and this was all her recompense, She checked the re- ply that rose to her lips, and kept her voice serene and low. ‘Ido not wish to annoy you in any way,” she said, simply; ‘IT saw that I was wrong to-day—that I had failed in the respect I owe you; I thought I ought to confess it and beg your pardon.” Zourott stared at her with his gloomy, sulleneyes. She looked very fair to him as she stood there with the silvery rays of the moon on her bent face and her white throat and breast; and yet she had lost almost all charm for him, whilst the ugliness of Jeanne de Sonnaz kept his sluggish passions alive through many years. He stared down on her, scarcely thinking at all of her words, thinking only, as men do every hour and every century, why it was that the pure woman wearies and palls, the impure strengthens her chains with every night that falls. It is a terrible truth, but it is a truth. . ‘* How lovely she is !” he thought; ‘‘ her mouth is a rose, her eyes are stars, her breasts are lilies, her breath is the fragrance of flowers; and—lI like Casse-une-Croute better, who is the color - of copper, and smells of smoke and brandy as I do !” That was what:he was thinking. ; ‘Vera looked away from_his face outward to the sea, and laid her hand for a moment on his arm. _. “It is three years ago,” she said, wistfully, ‘“I did not know gh , ‘Pe, Hai) ee | ie : ts 7 * 4 ' ; <4 * ye 2 5 : , ‘ ‘ i , r B73 } ; ! . Fi 2 sf : - ‘ - : a mF P a wid tj ‘ Ps { i hy i A Lav 4 i ‘ a . 7 ar io ey aw %S Ba Lh af) ee mh th, p aan a on , a 2 Lane bey a ute , Na Rs Pe a ee OK rh Aa eet .