Moths by Ouida — page 306: what you’re looking at

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

602 _ MOTHS. flise in your wife’s lap, as her tusband didin Saint Eliza beth’s.”’ Zouroff was silent. | ‘s Alas! alas! the age of miracles is past,” thought his sister ‘‘Good works bring their own fruits to those canable cf them in peace of mind and innocence of soul, thar I believe but the world has ceased to adore; the very vriests have ceased to vs lieve ; the ways of sin are not death, but triumph , and the pont do not love the hand that feeds them; they snatch and tear then snarl and bite, like a street cur. Alas! alas. eu sont neiges @ anian!” Meanwhile her mother Vere did not see at thattime she was thankful. Lady Dolly was one of the five hundred :seaders of English go- ciety, and could not jeave her duties. She was more popular than ever before. Her balls were the prettiest of the year and people could breathe at them; she was exclusive, yet always amiable; she knew how to unite a.social severity with a charm- ing good nature; she began to call herself old with the merriest hitle laugh in the world, and she began to doubt whether she still ought to dance. ‘‘A dear littie woman,” said the world ; and every one pitied her for having a daughter who was cold, who was austere, and who had so little affection for her. ‘*My Vere does not:.Jove me. It comes from my own fault, no doubt, in letting hér be away from me in her childhood,” said Lady Dolly, softly, to her intimate friends; and her eyes were dim and her voice pathetic. There were only two persons who did not believe in her in all her London world. These were a rough, gloomy, yet good- natured man, who was no longer Lord Jura, but Lord Shetland; and Fuschia, Duchess of Mull, ‘* Guess she’s all molasses,” said her Grace, who in moments of ease returned to her vernacular, ‘‘ but, my word, ain’t there wasps at the bottom.” ‘s After all, poor little pussie is not the simpleton 1 thought her,” mused Lady Stoat of Stitchley, with a sigh of envy; for ker own unerring wisdom and exquisite tact and prudence had not been able to avert exposure.and scandal from her own daughter. who was living with a French actor in Italy, while Lord Birken stead was drinking himself to death on brandy. A few days after their arrival, Correze had left Paris. For the first time in his life, he had refused to play in Paris on his ar- rival from the South, and had signed a four months’ engagement with Vienna and Berlin. ‘‘ They will say you are afraid to meet Prince Zouroff,” said an old friend to him. ‘‘ They may say it if they please,” answered Correze, wearily, and with a movement _ of disdain. He knew that his indignation and his disguise had carried him info an imprudence, an imprudence that he regretted now that the story of the Coupe d’Or had flown through society—regret- ted it lest it should annoy or compromise her; and for her sake he would not stay where she was. | He knew how the tongues of the world wagged with or witli: a comicbooks.co x) eb