Moths by Ouida — page 200: what you’re looking at

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

196 ae _ MOTHS. slave, her major-domo and her souffre-douleur. ‘‘T am so glad Vere takes it so well,” she thought, with relief. A little later there came into the pink tent a handsome woman in a black dress, with knots of pink; she had a domelike pile of glistening hair, gorgeous beauty, a splendid bust; she looked like a rose-bued rhododendron made human. It was Noisette. She bustled and banged about rather noisily, and laughed loudly with themen accompanying her, and scolded the servants unpacking her packages. ‘* V’la la petite!’ said Noisette, as she looked across the sward at the azure pavilion. She always said the same thing when she saw the Princess Zourofl. In a good-natured scornful way Noisette pitied her. The sunset hour wore away, and Vere had made no sign that she had seen the name beneath the golden squirrel and the woman whose badge the poaching squirrel was. Madame de Sonnaz was disappointed and perplexed. She had seen the look in Vere’s eyes, and as she thought her cold, but not tame, she wondered that she’bore the insult so passively. She ehene homeward with them to dine at Felicite and pass the night there. ‘‘ Surely it will be a great success to-morrow,” she cried, glee- fully. ‘‘Oh, mon Dieu! how tired I1am!—and how much more tired I shall be!” ‘* You are too good to the poor,” said Vere, with an intonation that the duchess did not admire. My 3s Bre will be unbearable when she is a little older,” she said to ersell, Vere reached her home, changed her dress for dinner, went down with the light on her opals and in her eyes—which had a dark stern look in them, new there—and bore herself throughout the dinner with that cold grace, that lofty simplicity which had gained her the name of the Alpine flower. ‘‘T suppose she accepts the thing with the rest,” thought Madame Jeanne, as she sat on the right hand of Zouroff; and she felt bit- terly angry with herself for having stooped to open the pavilions of her fancy fair to the dramatic sisterhood, even though it were in the puxe interests of charity. . After dinner, when her people were scattered about—some ~ playing cards, some merely flirting, some listening to the choral and orchestral music that the choice taste of Madame Nelaguine had always made a constant charm of the house-parties of Felic- ite—Sergius Zouroff, as he passed one moment from the card- room to the smoking-room, was stopped by his wife. She stood before him with her head erect, her hands crossed on a large fan of feathers. ‘‘ Monsieur,” she said, very calmly, though her voice was alto- © gether unlike what it had been on the terrace the night of their return—‘‘ monsieur, you desired me to take part in the so-called Kermesse to-morrow?” **Certainly,” said Zouroff, as he stared at her. _ “Then,” she said, very quietly still, ‘‘ you will see that the f , . ‘J : ' ‘ ~~ = : : - 4 " ; ' a rn > ee - : * . , : a \ Lifva toi b “<P : wan) | iL : rt Memes fo a = om