The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 63: what you’re looking at

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

THE LAST PEARL 45 kisses. She did not resist him. There was a slight recoil on her part, the recoil of an intense loathing which she experienced, but which she cared not now to display more than she could help, because the greater her repugnance the more signal his triumph. Even that slight shudder the marquis did not notice in the ardour with which he bestowed those caresses upon her. Then, unwinding his arms, he took off her bonnet, he tore away her shawl from her shoulders, and when he beheld her in the low-bodied dress which revealed not merely those full, plump shoulders in all their dazzling whiteness, but likewise all the upper part of the grand volume of the bust, he felt that the joys he was about to experience were not too dearly purchased even at the cost of one hundred thousand pounds. Venetia still resisted him not, but she fixed her eyes upon him with a look so deprecating, so martyrized, so full of mournful entreaty, that if there had been any generosity in his nature he would have relented, yes, he would have re- lented; and though that splendid creature was, after all, but the courtesan of royalty, and had not a particle of virtue to lose, he would nevertheless have forborne from taking an advantage which to her had all the poignancy of a sacrifice and an immolation. ‘“‘ And it is thus, Venetia,” he said, gazing upon her with looks which, while gloating with a satyr’s devouring lustful- ness on her charms, were also filled with the radiant satis- faction of triumph, “‘ it is thus that you have come to sur- render yourself at discretion? But, my charmer, you must expect no mercy at my hands. In the warfares of love there can be no mercy shown. Inexorable have you been to all the endeavours which I have previously made to win you to my arms, and now I must prove equally inexorable toward you.” “Is it revenge, then, my lord, that you are wreaking upon me? ”’ asked Venetia, in a low voice full of a plaintive melody, “‘ or is it love which, after your own fashion, you mean to bestow upon me? ”’ ‘Oh, if I thought that you would be all kindness to me, then assuredly should I be all that is loving and tender and affectionate toward you. But,’ continued the marquis, with a slight accentuation of bitterness, ‘‘ when you come to me cold as marble a statue, receiving my caresses as if you were (Cl) nn) GDoOo <Si in