Moths by Ouida — page 250: what you’re looking at

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

846 MOTHS ey smiled, ‘Ihave the silver flute stili, Excellency,’ he said. ‘Y do hope you had the note I wrote you, to thank you for it, to Geneva.’ And then, of course, in that brilliant young tenor I knew my little goat-boy who had quoted Theocritus, and won- dered how I could have been so stupid as not to have remembered his name when I heard it in the public mouth. So I, for one, know that it is quite true that he is a mountaineer no less than he is an artist and a Marquis de Correze. They say he has been in Ischl; I wish I had known it, for Iam always so glad to see him out of the whirl of cities, where both he and I, in our differ- ent ways, are too pressed for time to have much leisure for talk. He is a very charming companion, Correze. Forgive me, prin- cess, for telling you such a long story. Prosiness is pardoned to age; and here are the carriages.” Vere had listened with changing color, all the dejection and indifference passing from her face, and a light of pleasure and surprise shining in her frank, grave eyes. ‘“Do not apologize, You have interested me very much,” she said, simply. Ana the astute old man noticed that, as she spoke, she uncon- sciously touched the blue mountain-fiower at her throat. ‘‘Improbable as it seems,” he thought to himself, ‘‘ I would wager that it is Correze who gave hor that Wolfinia. She is not as cold as they say. ‘ Hile ne sait pas sencanailler.’ No;andshe ‘will never learn that modern science. But there are greater perils for great natures than the bath of mud, that they never will take though it is the fashion. The bath of mud breaks noth- ing, and mesdames come out of it, when they like, white as snow, But these people fall from the stars, and break everything as they fall, in them and under them. _ She is half marble still; she is not quite awake yet; but when she is—when she is, I would not wish to be Prince Sergius Zouroff!” The party went homeward in the fresh mountain-air, leaving the evening lights on Old Aussee lying amidst its many waters. Vere was very silent; her Alpine roses lay in her lap, the Minwit Chretien was on her ear. The sun had set when they descended into Ischl. Her servants came to meet her, and said that her husband had arrived. “Quel preux chevalier de mari!” cried the Duchesse Jeanne, with her shrill laughter, that was like the clash of steel. ‘‘Quel preux chevalier de mari!” repeated the Duchesse de Sonnaz to Prince Zouroff alone, as they stood on the balcony of the hotel after dinner. He laughed as he leaned over‘the balustrade smoking. P ** Je Vai towours ete, pour toi,” he whispered. The Duchesse de Sonnaz gave him a blow with her pretty fan, tare Fantin had painted with some Loves playing blindman’s- uff. __ Vere was inside the room: she was intent upon her lace-work, The shaded light of a ae fell on the proud, mournful calmness of her face. She wore black velvet with a high ruff of old Flemish lace ; she looked like a picture by Chardin, ei oh ~ comicbooks:. (ele) m i : re : 7 res : - : : Stl Bing al dae | j ; : a ith an Ld Jee 49 ba / f ia ; 4A) 72,08