Moths by Ouida — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

59 MOTHS. ic sing to the goats with the flush of the Alpine roses about. his feet and the snow above his head. . The lark dropped, as though owning itself vanquished, into the hollow, where its consort’s lowly nest was made. Correze ceased suddenly to sing, and looked at his companion. Vere was crying. _ Ah! my beautiful ange!” said an old peasant woman to him, standing close against the furze fence to listen; ‘‘do you come out of Paradise to tell us we are not quite forgot there?” Vere said nothing; she only turned on him her great soft eyes, whilst the tears were falling unchecked down her cheeks. ‘‘Mademoiselle,” said Correze, ‘‘I have had flattery in my time, and more than has been good for me; but who ever gave me such sweet flattery as yours?” — ‘¢Flattery!” murmured Vere. ‘‘I did not mean—oh, how can you say that? The woman is right; it is as if it came from the angels!” ‘‘By aservant of angels most unworthy, then,” said Correze, with a smile and asigh. ‘‘As for the woman—good mother, here is a gold piece that’ carries Paradise in it; or at least men tiink so. But I am afraid, myself, that by the time we have {ound the gold pieces we have most of us forgotten the way to Paradise.” Vere was silent. She was still very pale; the tears stood on her lashes as the rain stands on the fringes of the dark passion- f'ower after a storm. ‘‘Tell me your name, my angel!” said the old woman, with her hand on the coin. ‘¢ Raphael.” | T will pray to St. Raphael for you; if indeed you be not he?” “‘Nay; [am not he. Pray always, good soul; it is pleasant to think that some one prays forus. Those cries cannot all be Lost.’ _ £*Have you none to love you?” said the old woman. ‘That is odd, for you are beautiful.” ‘‘T have many to love me—ina way. But none to pray that: i know of; that is another affair, Mother, did you see that lark that sang on against me, and dropped to its nest at last?” ‘*T saw it.” : : “hy have a heed that the boys do not stone and the trappers net it.” ‘‘T will. What is your fancy ?” ‘It is a little brother.” _The peasant woman did not understand, but she nodded three times. ‘‘The lark shall be safe as a king in hiscourt. The plot he is inismine, When you want athing, say to women you wish it; you do not want to say anything else.” Correze laughed, and pulled down a rose from behind the sweet-brier. He held it out to Vere. ‘If there were only a single rose here and there upon earth, men and women would pass their years on their knees before its beauty. I wonder sometimes if human ingratitude for beauty Gomicbooks (ale)