Moths by Ouida — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

86 MOTHS. by black marble negroes holding golden torches. After the silence, the stillness, the gloom, of her Northumbrian home, with the old servants moving slowly through the dim oak-paneled passages, the brilliance, the luxury, the glittering luster, the va et vient of Felicite seemed like a gorgeous spectacle. She would have liked to stand on that grand staircase, among the hothouse flowers, and look at it all as on a pageant. But her mother swept on into the drawing-rooms, and Vere heard a little murmur of admiration, which she did not dream was for herself. Lady Dolly in her way was an artist, and she had known the right thing to do when she had had Vere clad in white cachemire, with an old silver girdle of German work, and in the coils of her hair a single silver arrow. Vere was perfect in her stately, serious, yet childlike grace} and the women watching her enter felt a pang of envy. Sergius Zouroff, her host, advancing, murmured a ‘‘ divinement belle!” and Lady Stoat, watching from a distant, sofa, thought to herself, ‘‘ What a lovely creature! really it is trying for poor little ussy.” ‘ ogee went into her first great dinner. She said little or nothing. She listened-and wondered. Where she sat she could not see her mother nor any one she knew. The young French diplomatist who took her in tried to make himself agreeable to her, hut she replied by monosyllables. He thought how stupid these lovely ingenues always were. He had not the open sesame of Correze to the young mute soul. | Dinner over, Lady Stoat took possession of her in the charming, motherly affectionate way for which she was celebrated with youn girls. But even Lady Stoat did not make much way with er; Vere’s large serious eves were calmlv watching everything. ‘¢'Will you show me which is Miss Leach?” she said, suddenly. Lady Stoat laughed and pointed discreetly with a fan. *¢ Who has told you about Fuschia Leach?” she said, amusedly. ‘*T will make you known to her presently; she may be of use to you.” Vere’s eyes, grave as a child’s awakened out of sleep into the glare of gus, fastened where her fan had pointed, and studied Miss Leach. She saw a very lovely person of transparent color- ing, of very smal! features, of very slight form, with a skin like delicate porcelain, an artistic tangle of artistically ‘colored red- gold hair, a tiny impertinent nose, and a wonderful expression of mingled impudence, shrewdness, audacity, and resolution. This: person had her feet on an ottoman, her hands behind her head, a rosebu” in her mouth, and a male group around her. “*{ snall not like her: I do not wish to know her,” said Vere, slowly. ‘*My dear, do not say so,” said Lady Stoat. ‘It will sound like jealousy, you know—one pretty girl of another——” ‘* She is not a lady,” said Vere once more. ‘‘ There you are right,” said Lady Stoat. ‘‘ Very few people are, my love, nowadays. But that is just the sort of thing you must not say. It will get quoted against you, and make you, make you—oh, such enemies, my love!” al : comicbooks:-co