Moths by Ouida — page 296: what you’re looking at

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

292 MOTHS. many to count them, but at last they may pass one’s patience; yours (have passed mine.” : “Body of Christ!’ he cried, savagely, ‘what were you? Did I not buy you? What better are you than that other woman who ohas my sables, except that I bought up at a higher cost? Hiave you never thought of that? You high-bornvirgins'who are offered up for gold, how are you so much nobler and higher that the jolies impures whom you pretend ‘to despise ?’’ “TI have thought of it every day and night since I was made your wife. But you know very well that I did not marry you for either rank or riches, neither for any purpose of my own.” “No? For what did you then?” Vere’s voice sank very low, so low that the sound, of tthe sea. almost drowned it. “Tio save my mother; you know ‘that.”’ The face of her husband changed, and the let go his hold of her wrists. | “What did she tell you?’ he muttered; ‘“‘‘what did she tell you?” “She told mie she was in your debt; that she could not pay you; that you thad letters of hers to some one—she did not say to whom—that placed her in your power, and you had threatened to use your power unless I—— But you must know all that very well; better than I do. It seemed to me right to sacrifice myself; now I would not dio it; but then I was such a child, and she prayed to me in my father’s niame—’”’ She paused suddenly, for Zouroff laughed aloud, a terrible jarring laugh, that seemed to hurt the peace and silence around. ‘What a liar! whiat a liar always!’’ he muttered, ‘‘and with it all ‘how pretty, and empty-headed, and harmless she looks— Miladi Dolly!’’ Then he laughed again. ‘‘Was it not true?’ said Vere. A great cold and a great sickness came over ther: the look upon her husbiand’s face frightened her as his rage had had no power to do. “True, was what true?’ “That she was in your power.’ His eyes did not meet hers. “Yes—no. She had had plenty of my money, but that was mo matter,’ he answered her in a strange forced voice, ‘‘but she—she had paid me; there was no cause to frighten you.” Then he laughed again, ia dissonant cruel laugh, that hurt his wife more than the bruise he had left upon her wrists. “Was it not true?” she muttered again, wearily; she trembled a little. “Be quiet!’ said her husband, roughly, with the color passing over his face again like a hot wind. ‘Do not talk of it; do not think of it; she wished you to marry me, and she has—well, in a sense she was afraid, and wished to muzzle me. Ah! those dainty ladies! and they think to meet the lionnes in the Passage des Anglais is pollution!’ Then he laughed yet again. 7 rs a oe § “a COmMIGc aXe () (S-€O mn