Moths by Ouida — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

20 Ni MOTHS. ‘‘{ have never heard him sing,” said Vere, very low, as if she spoke of some religious thing; ‘‘ but I would give anything, any- thing, to do so. And the music he composes himself is beauti- ful. There is one ‘ Messe de Minuit——” ‘Mademoiselle will hear him often enough when she is once in the world,” said Adrienne, good-naturedly. ‘‘ Ah! when she shall see him in ‘ Faust,’ that will bean era inher life. But it is not his singing that makes the great ladies rave of him; it is his charm. Oh, quel philtre d@amour!” And Adrienne quite sighed with despair, and then laughed. Vere colored a little; Keziah did not discourse about men being love-philters. ‘‘Measure me for my clothes; I am tired,” she said, with a . childish coldnessand dignity, turning away from the window. ‘‘Tam entirely at mademoiselle’s service,” said Adrienne, with answering ‘dignity. ‘‘ Whoever has had the honor to clothe mad- emoiselle has been strangely neglectful of her highest interests.” ‘*My clothes my highest interest! I never think about them!” ‘‘Thatis very sad. They are really farouche. If mademoiselle could behold herse!f——” : ‘‘They are useful,” said Vere coldly, ‘‘ that is all that is nece essary.” | Rieianinie was respectfully silent, but she shuddered as if she had heard a blasphemy. She could not comprehend how the young barbarian had been brought up by a duchess. Adrienne had never been to Bulmer, and had never seen Her Grace of Mull, with her silver spectacles, her leather boots, her tweed seetcgiy her farm-ledgers, her stud-books, and her ever-open ible. ‘¢Measure me quickly,” said Vere. She had lowered the green jalousies, and would not look out any more. Yet she felt hap- - pier. She missed dark old misty Bulmer with its oak woods by the ocean; yet this little gay room, with its pretty cretonne, » cream-colored, with pale pink roses, its gilded mirrors, its rose china, its white muslin, was certainly brighter and sunnier, and who could tell but what her mother would grow to love her — some day? At nine o’clock, Lady Dolly, considering herself a martyr to. maternity, ran into the little room where Vere was at tea with her governess; Lady Dolly was arrayed for the evening sauterie at the Casino, and was in great haste to be gone. ‘Have you everything you like, darling?” she asked, pulling on her pearl-hued crispins. ‘*‘Did you have a nice little dinner? Yes? Quite sure? Has Adrienne been to you? An excellent creature? Perfect taste. Dear me, what a pity!—you might have come and jumped about to-night if you had had only some- thing to wear. Of course you like dancing?” ‘*T dislike it very much.” ‘*Dear me! Ah, well, you won’t say so after a cotillon or two. You shall have a cotillon that Louroff leads; there is nobody better. Good-night, my sweet Vera. Mind, I shalk always call you Vera. It sounds so Russian and nice, and is much prettier than Vere.” ‘ & comicbooks (E(0)