Moths by Ouida — page 267: what you’re looking at

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

MOTHS. | 268 ot your face and figure! Good heavens! it is teo ridicu- ous The eyes of Vere grew very stern. ‘* That is your advice to me? to content myself with my chiffons and my conquests?” “Certainly; any other woman would. I know you are to be trusted; you will never let men go too far.” “if I dragged your name in the dust throughout Europe you. would deserveit,” thought his wife; and a bitter retort rose to her lips. But she had been reared in other ways than mere obe- dience to every impulse of act or speech. She still believed, de- spite the world about. her, that the word she had given in her marriage-vow required her forbearance and her subjection to Sergius Zouroff; she was still of the ‘‘ old fashion.” | She controlled her anger and her disdain, and turned her face ) full on him with something pleading and wistful in the proud eyes that had still the darkness of just scorn. ‘‘You prefer the society of Noisette and Casse-une-Croute; why do you need mine too? Since they amuse you, and can con- tent you, cannot you let me be free of all this gilded bondage, which is but a shade better than their gilded infamy? You bid me occupy myself with chiffons and conquests. I care for neither. Will you give me what I could care for? This feverish,. frivolous life of the great world has no charm for me. It suits « me in nothing; neither in health nor taste, neither in mind nor body. I abhor it. I was reared in other ways with other thoughts. It is horrible to me to waste the year from one end to the other on mere display, mere dissipation; to callit amusement is absurd, for it amuses no one, It is a monotony, in its way, as tiresome as any other.” ‘Tt ‘q the life we all lead,” he interrupted her, with some im- patience. ‘ “here :s intrigue enough in it to salt it, God knows!” ‘Not for me,” said Vere, coldly, with an accent that made him feel ashamed. ‘* You do not understand me—I suppose you never will; but, to speak practically, will you let me pass my time on one of your estates? if not here, in Poland, where the people suffer more, and where I might do good? I have more strength of purpose than you fancy: I would educate the peas- ' ant children, and try and make your name beloved and honored’ on your lands—not cursed, as itis now. Let me live that sort of life, for half the year at least ; let me feel that all the time God gives me is not utterly wasted. I helped many in Paris; I could do more, so mucl. more, here. I would make your people love me; and then perhaps, peace at least would come to me. am most unhappy now. You must have known it always, but 1 think you never cared.” The simplicity of the words, spoken as a child would have spoken them, had an intense pathos in them, uttered as they were by a woman scarcely twenty, who was supposed to have the world at her feet. For one moment they touched the cold heart of Zouroff, as once before at Felicite the uplifted eyes of Vere had touched them at their betrothal and almost spurred him to re- nunciation of her and refus2! of her sacrifice. And she looked sq ~ Trade’ peat. j wily » * wt ray se . ’ : . (fo) mn ae | MN ~~ “comicbooks. Ps 3, ‘ e 5! The wai) OP a ee PRS F a aay aK